


The Prince & the Idiot

by Listelia



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship, Bittersweet, Bittersweet Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Caring Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Cats, Character Death, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Epic, Epic Battles, Epic Bromance, Epic Friendship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, I'm not an idiot, Letters, Little Albion, Love, Lullabies, Mental Health Issues, Not for the faint of hearts, Pregnancy, Protective Knights (Merlin), Protective Merlin, Retelling, War, mental impairement
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:41:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 55,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22943461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Listelia/pseuds/Listelia
Summary: "- "Idiot, idiot, idiot", are chanting children in the muddy street.Arthur stops, a bit dazzled. He brings his hand to his forehead to shield his eyes and his heart aches watching their dancing figures in the steaming light. They're hopping in circles around a tall, skinny boy with large ears, who is spinning on himself to smile at them..."One single act of kindness will change Arthur's life forever.
Relationships: Gwaine & Merlin (Merlin), Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gwen/Lancelot (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Mithian/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 50





	1. THAT'S HOW THE STORY BEGAN

\- "Idiot, idiot, idiot", are chanting children in the muddy street.

Arthur stops, a bit dazzled. He brings his hand to his forehead to shield his eyes and his heart aches watching their dancing figures in the steaming light. They're hopping in circles around a tall, skinny boy with large ears, who is spinning on himself to smile at them...

\- "Sire?"

Arthur flinches and comes back to the present time. He nods at Sir Leon who is watching him with a slightly worried look and strides on.

The melody fades away. The children have disappeared, evaporated amid the market stalls.

The king goes down the main street of Camelot, his long red coat swelling behind him, the sun caught in his blond hair, and he feels more alone than ever.

_It was so many years ago._

He is barely twenty and goes heckling down the same street in the fresh spring air that perfumes Camelot.

\- "Idiot, idiot, idiot ..."

He glances at them distractedly, busy laughing out loud and exchanging fraternal fist blows with the knights. They are just kids with threadbare clothes and screeching voices, doing a round around a distraught teenager.

\- "Poor lad", sighs Sir Leon. "That's Gaius' ward. Must have been sent on an errand."

But he doesn't do anything, only frowns as they pass by the group.

\- "He's not the sharpest sword in the armory", someone adds, somewhat sad.

Maybe it's just because for a short time Arthur believed the knight was speaking of _Gaius_ in these insulting terms, but he stops to look more closely at the scene.

Dust dances in the sunlight of late afternoon, golden particles glittering around the lanky figure who stumbles, trying to cope with his torturers' merry-go-round.

Untidy black hair and large ears, angular face and slender shoulders that do not fill his jacket, rangy legs like a young colt and thin arms desperately protecting the bag of herbs.

Arthur smiles, amused.

Then the boy turns towards him, looking over the heads of the children circling and chanting their mischievous song. Two cobalt orbs fringed with dark eyelashes meet the prince's sapphires iris.

\- "Idiot, idiot, idiot ..."

Arthur does not really know why.

_Maybe it's that resigned countenance. Perhaps the mute interrogation in the deep blue eyes. Maybe just because a knight must not ignore injustice, however small it may be._

He steps forward, breaking the circle.

\- "That's enough, leave him be."

The children scamper off like a swarm of crows, but the scrawny boy stays, his chin dropped on his chest, shoulders slumped like if he's expecting to be punished.

\- "What's your name?" asks the Prince gruffly, after clearing his throat.

A surprised glow hovers on the protruding cheekbones.

\- "Idiot?"

Arthur frowns, gives a pat on the bony shoulder - and the friendly but too overdosed gesture almost throws the teen to the ground.

\- "No, your _real_ name."

Two cobalt orbs look up at him shyly under the thick dark lashes. Then a big smile widens on the face of the back-haired boy.

\- "Merlin."

\- "Merlin", Arthur repeats thoughtfully. "Well, _Mer_ lin. Next time, don't get yourself entangled with these brats. Hurry up and go home. Your guardian must be waiting for you."

A hurried nod, then the boy with big ears flees, still holding tight of the bag of herbs.

\- "Gaius will be grateful", Sir Leon says with an odd smile, as if he was not quite sure why Arthur chose to intervene. "The lad came here a few days ago with merchants from Ealdor. Apparently his mother was a friend of Gaius and entrusted him to the old man before she died."

Arthur does not pay much attention to what the man says, he only heeds the fact this was helpful to Gaius. He likes the old Court physician, who watched him grow up. And it _is_ cowardly to assault someone weaker than oneself. He is not kind to his servants, but he considers himself fair. You do not have to be mean to prove that you are strong. A scene like the one he has just witnessed is just cruel, it's not like ordering his manservant to stop whining when he holds the target for practice or ignoring the grimaces of pain on the young squires' faces after hours of training.

To be firm, even borderline severe, to make fun of others and to not indulge in sentimentality builds up the mind of those who show too soft.

But those innocent blue eyes simply can not defend themselves.

_They do not understand._

Merlin belongs to another world, and Arthur is quite pleased he's not part of it.

He has almost forgotten that market day when the avenging dagger flies in the Great Hall. At the last moment, someone hurls him down, pushing him out of danger.

And he is speechless when his father decides to place the one who has saved him at his service.

_Merlin._

Of all people present in the room, it is the gawky boy who spends his time on Gaius' heels who is the _only one_ who saw the singer's attack.

Arthur goes to Gaius the next day to clear up the misunderstanding. Certainly, he is grateful, but it is out of question that he will embarrass the old physician. It is obvious that his ward will not renew such a deed anytime soon and the prince does not want to bother with a useless servant who won't even last a week at his service.

The chamber filled with vials and potions is bathed in dawn parchment light. It smells of thyme and hawthorn, and of books leather bindings.

He plants himself in the middle of the room, arms crossed and legs spread, waiting for the old man to be back, and suddenly, up the narrow staircase, the door of the loft opens.

A tousled head, still half asleep, peeps out, then the blue eyes see the prince and the lanky boy rushes down the stairs towards him.

\- "Arthur!"

There is so much joy and anticipation on the angular face that the young man takes a step back, a bit unsettled.

He clears his throat.

\- "Merlin."

\- "D'you need somethin'?"

He uncrosses his arms, raises an eyebrow.

\- "Hum. Uh ... Well, actually, yes. I ... where's Gaius?"

\- "Gone."

\- "Obviously."

The prince nibbles the inside of his cheek.

\- "Look, Merlin. I ..."

_I don't want you._

_You won't do._

_I can't spare time to be nice, nor afford to treat you differently from the other staff._

_I'm sorry, but that's not possible. I need a capable manservant, one who can go with me everywhere and won't bring me shame..._

He suddenly blushes when he figures out he has not even given _a_ chance to Gaius's ward.

_"Idiot, idiot, idiot ..." chant the children in his head._

He straightens up, uncomfortable, clears his throat, puts on his most royal pout.

\- "Merlin, if you want to be my manservant, you have to be with my breakfast in my chambers _before_ I get up. It makes no sense that _I_ should come get _you_ here when I need something."

\- "Yes, sire!" Merlin replies promptly with a smile that goes up to his big ears.

And Arthur feels laughter bubbling up in his throat.

_That's how the story began._

It was not easy and sometimes Arthur wondered _what_ had gone through his mind on that day.

_Lightening?_

_Madness?_

_The desire to stand out?_

_Magic?_

Merlin is barely able to perform the simple duties of a kitchen boy. He is so clumsy no day passes without the sound of him tumbling down the stairs in a clatter of armor pieces. He is almost never on time, has no idea how to dispose a meal on a tray according to the etiquette, and the way he sorts out clothes in the wardrobe is a mystery in itself: the prince has given up trying to find them on his own. To take him hunting means returning empty-handed and training with him is about as effective as fighting against a bag of dirt.

And above all, he never _shuts_ up.

All day long, he chirps continuously, commenting on things, people, the weather outside, with inexhaustible cheerfulness.

Arthur thought it was _nervousness_ at first. But he was wrong and Gaius merely raised an eyebrow when the prince complained, as if he did not see where the problem lay. Sir Leon actually _guffawed_ at him.

Apparently whether servants or nobles, everyone knew – everyone but Arthur, who finds it a little upsetting.

But then, when he starts paying some attention to the incessant chatter, he doesn't mind anymore.

Merlin doesn't just _babble_. He talks about of a lot of things that you might want to know. He sees everything, he hears a lot of gossip and no-one is wary of him. He sorts people in his own way, those "nice" and those "creepy", which makes the prince collapse with laughter, especially since the appraisal is often close to the truth.

Merlin has no idea of what's _proper_. He's afraid of the king's big voice and stands silent, his head bowed and his hands clasped in front of him when he's in the same room - which mercifully keeps him away from trouble - but he has no such aloofness in front of the heir to Camelot, however.

_Sire._

_Arthur._

_Your Pratiness._

_Dollophead._

All names hold the same value to him and Arthur's worries quickly evaporate: oh, he can behave quite normally with Merlin. In fact, the gangly boy is surely the only person with whom Arthur can really _be himself_.

Merlin is honest – more sincere than anyone else. If he is not happy, you will know. He mumbles and grumbles and complains – his socks are wet during the hunt, he could not sleep well because Gaius snored, someone ate the pie Cook had put aside for him, there is too much laundry.

\- " _Me_ rlin. Do you really wish _that much_ to muck the stables?"

\- "Nope."

He never lies: the concept seems completely foreign to him. Arthur noticed it after asking the boy to come up with an excuse for him while he went for a tryst with a princess who was a guest to the castle at the time. When the prince returned from his flowery afternoon, he found his manservant shampooed with rotten vegetables. Merlin expressed his disgust with the stocks, but he did not hold a grudge against Arthur and happily agreed to cover up for him the next day as well - ending at exactly the same place.

The thing happened many times again, since then.

He is the cheekiest and the most faithful domestic of them all. He follows Arthur everywhere, teases him, protects him, relentlessly serves him in his clumsy and stubborn way.

At the end of the first week, Arthur has understood that if he does not send his manservant home with a clear order, Merlin will spend the night sitting in the corridor, his arms crossed over his knees, his bony cheeks nestled in the crook of his elbow, ready to answer at first call.

The prince is pleasantly surprised to discover Merlin is able to help him don his armor correctly from his second day of work. He does not know that Gaius and Guinevere, the maidservant of his sister Morgana, spent hours with the lad. After his disastrous first morning - _out of patience, Arthur threatened to get rid of him_ – Merlin, lips tightened so not to cry, went with long strides to the girl's house to beg her to show him how to do it properly. Gaius served as a dummy, giggling when the boy tickled him while looping the belts. They did their best to cheer him up and were rewarded with the stunned face of the prince the next day and Merlin's beaming smile when he found out they had watched his deed.

Merlin loves tournaments. He claps his hands and whistles excitedly, rushes when the fight is over to pick up the helmet of his master and take his sword. He seems convinced of Arthur's invincibility and of his incredible resistance to pain, and the prince, flattered if a little worried, has decided not to disabuse him.

There is something extremely exhilarating in this boundless adoration, something strange that awakes in Arthur the desire to prove that he _is_ the man Merlin sees.

It's not like proving his value to his father – the prince bitterly acknowledges that it is probably never going to happen. It's not like when he's jousting with the other knights, eager to show his worth to the older ones and to dazzle the squires. No, it's different, because his father calls him a young fool or condemns his slightest weaknesses, because nobody at the Court or in the army would never dare to tell the truth to the prince about his actual fighting level - or his personality. His "friends" flatter him and are careful not to upset him, but he heard them talking about him when they thought he's wasn't there: they think he's an unexperienced rooster with big muscles and a disproportionate ego, who will never stand a chance when he accesses the throne…

_A prat of petty scale._

Since he has learnt what people thought and said behind his back, Arthur has thrown himself headlong in the tournaments, in search of a sense of reality.

_A fair and great king._

He has a dream and, for the first time in his life, he met someone who believes in it.

So he wins his fights. For Merlin, for himself, for the love of Camelot.

And he does not see that it makes him change gradually.

A month after their meeting at the market, he's flabbergasted when it turns out he was right to give a chance to Merlin about Sir Valiant, when his manservant, ears red with emotion, had rushed in his room telling the far-fetched story of a cheater slipping snakes in the chain mail of his opponents. Fortunately, Sir Leon had gone ahead and made discreet inquiries before taking the matter to the attention of the king. Without evidence, Merlin would have been in serious trouble - and Arthur would have been terribly humiliated.

Later, when a courtesan attempts to assassinate Uther Pendragon during the banquet of alliance with King Bayard, Arthur does not have time to consult with the most serious of the knights because Merlin jumps in directly, triggering a scandal in the Great Hall. Arthur tries to protest, to remind his father of the mental impairment of the young servant to appease his anger, but he can not prevent the two sovereigns from glaring at each other and deciding that Merlin will drink the cup he claims poisoned.

Two cobalt orbs fringed with dark eyelashes gaze trustingly at Arthur, convinced that he _will_ be saved, once it's proved he was right.

So when the frail figure collapses, the prince pays no attention to the outraged racket of the room. He picks up the oh so light body of his manservant and storms out not worrying of what will be said or of the fact his father requires him to be there during the negotiations with Bayard. And when Gaius, frantic, tells Arthur only a certain plant with yellow leaves can save the boy, the young man does not waver for a second. He braves the wrath of the king, saddles his horse and dives into the night resolutely.

On the cot, Merlin is tossing, burning with fever, and he whimpers softly.

\- "Ar't'r ..."

When the prince returns, Uther, beside himself with irate, throws his son into the dungeons to punish him, but Arthur doesn't care how his pride will suffer in the weeks to come, when he will face people in the upper class again. No, he has only one thought in mind: saving Merlin.

_Two blue eyes gaze at him ..._

Someone believes in Arthur and he is not about to fail that trust.

It is Guinevere who comes to the rescue and steals the flower under the nose of the guards. It is the first time he talks face to face with his sister's maidservant. He did not know she was so courageous, so audacious ... so beautiful.

His world is about to turn upside down, his priorities are reversed, he sees what he never looked at, he hears what had always remained in silence, and Arthur guesses it will not last for long. But he is not afraid. Instead, a soft, warm hope throbs in his chest, an adventure thrill more attractive than any of the quests he pursued before, the sense of being fully alive.

Later, when his father lets him free, the prince doesn't wonder why he finds himself in Gaius' chambers, sitting by the fireplace next to that idiot who has become much more than just a manservant.

Merlin smiles, hooded in his blanket, still weak after this ordeal.

The flames dance in the cobalt orbs shaded by thick eyelashes. He does not ask questions, he does not say thank you either, so Arthur has no need to pretend he had a thousand reasons to try saving him.

It's so easy to be yourself when you're loved just like you are.

* * *

**_TBC_ **


	2. FROM WINTER TO SPRING

A year goes by.

People got so used to seeing the heir to Camelot followed by his scraggy servant, and to hear their playful banter that they tell tales of it during the long hours of winter nights.

_The Prince and the Idiot._

Gaius and Sir Leon are probably the only ones to have noticed, but the peasants have taken a liking to the king's son. The one who used to be carefully avoided - the prat with treacle brains – has become the child they dot on. They keep nodding a lot - _oh, he still has much to learn!_ \- but they glance indulgently when he passes by, offer him an apple or a smile, and they hope.

If it keeps on like this, Arthur will be different from his father, who crushes the people with taxes and suspicions. Uther Pendragon sends innocents to the pyre under the pretext of practicing magic or having a different faith, he shows no mercy to the pleas of the villages around, whether they ask for help in times of famine or when they're subjected to bandits' raids.

Arthur has made a friend, a commoner named Lancelot, who has all the qualities to become a knight and whom his father flatly refused to dub knight because of he did not have a title of nobility.

It was Merlin who met Lancelot first, on a day he was collecting herbs for Gaius. The young man saved him from a wolf and got wounded. Merlin, who brings back ill tramps and abandoned kittens just the same, begged his master to meet Lancelot: "he's a true knight, Arthur. You'll love him!"

Arthur was forced to admit Merlin was right, _again_. Lancelot and he got along right away - after a duel that left the prince dripping with sweat and happier than he had been for days. Finally an opponent worth his strength - and who fears not to tell him off, even if he does it with more subtlety and tact that a certain manservant.

The young man with black eyes, who never seems in a hurry and often chuckles to himself, also won over Guinevere's heart. He did not stay long in Camelot, but he shows up from time to time and takes Merlin fishing.

One summer evening when the heat was pounding the city, he asked the physician to explain his ward's condition. Arthur listened silently, leaning against the doorframe, his sleeves rolled up on his folded arms while Guinevere and Merlin were playing with water in the courtyard, screaming and giggling like two kids.

Gaius explained Merlin was born like that. _Simple-minded_. And that it was never going to change, even if he opened up to the world and learned more and more how to fend for himself.

Lancelot said nothing for a moment, then he told them he once had a little brother and that a terrible fever had left the child idiot at the age of eight. That the villagers had never accepted the boy and constantly tormented him. And how, someday, a flung stone had striked his temple and he had died.

Arthur slipped into the hallway during the story, so he wouldn't have to maintain his impassive mask, and he's happy to have done so when Gaius concludes with saying that Merlin was very lucky his mother was able to protect and educate him.

\- "Merlin can read?"

\- "And he _likes_ it", the old physician answers, nodding with a smile and lifting his chin toward the shelves where thick volumes bound in leather are piled up.

\- "Does he write as well?" marvels Lancelot.

\- "He could, if he did not mix all the letters in his words ..."

The next day, Arthur dictates Merlin a note for his sister, then tries to read the result, without success: all the letters are here, but definitely _not_ in the right order. Sir Leon walks in while he's deciphering and merely nods gravely when the prince, embarrassed, tells him what it's about.

\- "It is _something_ that he can read, it is quite rare for a servant", says the knight. " _Guinevere_ can read and write. My mother gave her lessons."

That information is stored in a corner of young Pendragon's brains, who forgets it when the beautiful Sophia, a mysterious stranger met on the edge of the forest, flings her curly eyelashes at him.

It takes Merlin to save the day, once more. He does not like the lass, classifies her under the "creep" category as soon as she takes three steps into town. Lancelot is the only one who believes him, of course. He follows the prince and when the beauty tries to drown her drugged boyfriend, the pure hearted commoner jumps in reeling his sword. Merlin has quite a few swirls of silty water, but it is him who gets his master out of the lake. On the shore, Arthur is miffed to the highest, but he is safe.

\- "It was not _even_ a princess", Merlin huffs.

Uther will not know his son had almost lost his mind - and his life.

The king has other fish to fry with a new tournament in order, and one of the participants being a black knight he thought dead long ago. The man who hides his face behind his dark helmet wins his fights one after the other, defeating his opponents with relentless cruelty. Arthur's father is quite glad his son has volunteered to patrol the borders of Camelot, because he'd dread to see him face his former rival.

What he does not know is that the prince is still in Camelot, under another banner, participating in disguise to the tournament. Arthur has made up his mind, he thinks the other knights go gentle on him during training and he is tired of not being able to be himself with others. Lancelot would disapprove if he was here, but it's one of those moments where he's gadding around the country in search of a quest. Merlin, uneasy, is torn between his loyalty to his master and the tickling in his nostrils, like a sneeze close to hatch, which is a sign that he should talk to Gaius. He trots from the tent to the forge, tries to explain to Guinevere that something is wrong, but she does not listen. The fact Arthur has chosen to hide in _her_ home seems to have make her go haywire: she sings and tucks flowers in her hair like a crazy Dryad. Merlin watches her in awe – and disbelief – as she encourages the prince to prove his worth while scolding him for his bad manners.

Arthur, who has never been treated this way and who certainly sees Guinevere in a new light, basks in this scarlet and golden dream ... which suddenly shatters on the fifth day, when he comes face to face in the final with the Black Knight.

His battered helmet rolls in the sand of the arena and he shakes his head to get rid of his blonde hair soaked with sweat under the chain mail. Uther stiffens on his throne, but he can not intervene.

The opponent of the prince proves loyal and also takes off his helmet. A flurry of amazed exclamations gusts upon the stands: the mysterious warrior is _a woman_.

Her golden hair traps the sunlight rays and her almond-shaped eyes are cold as ice. She is beautiful, but Merlin hisses like an angry cat when he sees her. The knight was a "creep" but this creature is a whole new category by herself: "bad, uh-uh, very bad."

Arthur sneers, sitting up, the sword heavy down his tired arm. He rolls his shoulders under his steel pauldrons and prepares to continue the fight.

_It's only a woman, there's no way he's going to lose._

_It's only a woman, but she won over all those she faced so far ..._

On the other side of the fence surrounding the arena, Guinevere nibbles her thumb nail and Merlin squeezes his arms around his waist. Gaius has approached them with his mother-of-all-frowns, but now there's only concern on his face as he compares the women's features with those of the king.

_No doubt. He knows who she is._

_He also knows that if Arthur learns the truth, he will never be the same._

Uther anxiously watches the moves of the two opponents. It is excruciating that he cannot hear what they say in between gasps.

\- "If you win this fight, young Pendragon, I'll tell you the truth about your mother's death ..."

\- "Do not believe you can sully her memory!"

\- "Oh, but it is not _I_ who have dishonored her ..."

The woman's voice slithers into Arthur's heart like a poison. She is swift as a snake and fatigue fills his boots with lead. He stumbles, he falls. The tip of the black sword pricks his throat, thin and sharp like a stained glass shard.

\- "Come ... tonight, when the moon rises..."

Arthur simply blinks under the glaring sun. Sweat drips down his eyelashes and on his chin, like tears.

She pulls away her sword, extends her hand to help him up and receives the cheers of the crowd while a murderously looking Uther can only applaud with his teeth so tight they squeak and startle Lady Morgana next to him.

The girl frowns. She soon understands there _is_ a secret, a secret her father would give anything to keep hidden. She is keen, daring, stubborn and bold. All her life she dreamed of an adventure, of a world where she would be free - not just a pretty doll exhibited under a velvet canopy on bank holidays.

She slips through the tents, catches a glimpse of the figure in shimmering black armor that greets Arthur before settling on the saddle and getting away with a smirk towards the king who seethes in silence.

Arthur is confined to his chambers - he deliberately disobeyed by not going to the border - where he paces like a caged lion. In his distress and anger, he tells his sister the enigmatic words of the woman. Morgana has a plan to get him out, but this plan requires an accomplice who will bring Arthur a rope so he can escape through the window. It will be Merlin, _good old Merlin_ , who always looks at her with his round blue eyes full of admiration, who brought her flowers when she was sick, who does not scold when she dreams aloud of what she could do and be, if she was allowed a sword and could roam the world.

Morgana loves her maidservant, but Guinevere is too reasonable. Merlin is afraid of Uther, but he will comply to her orders if convinced it is for the good of Arthur.

At nightfall, hidden under their hoods, brother and sister sneak out of the castle and ride to the woman-knight's rendezvous. They leave the servant to guard the horses and hasten to the grove.

The lady with golden hair is there, in the pale moonlight, and her eyes sparkle like glazed opals in the darkness. She does not speak for very long, but her suave voice pierces their souls and seals their fates.

Her name is Morgause and she is the daughter of their father, born after the latter betrayed Ygraine during a starless night, when the intoxicating perfume of vine flowers was heavy in the hot breeze of late summer. When Lady Vivienne's husband discovered she bore a child that was not his, he dressed in his black-ink armor, rode to Camelot and demanded compensation. The king defeated him in a duel by the rules, but the damage was done. At dawn the next day, the servants discovered the queen at the foot of the tallest tower, her face as white as her silk dress, among the roses splashed with crimson tears.

Ygraine did not die giving birth to Morgana and Arthur would have had a mother if Uther had not yielded to this foolishness.

Merlin does not understand why they seem so close to crying and yet their eyes are dry. He tries to talk, but he's ignored, so he just rides beside them, wishing he could give them some warmth. His blue eyes have glanced one last time at the woman with a heart of ice and he has decided: he won't let her come near Arthur _ever again_. He follows his master to Camelot and assists, terrified, to the confrontation between father and son. He does not know that Morgana's silence is far more dangerous than the rage that drives the prince against Uther.

When the king manages to make Arthur see reason, after hours of their swords clashing with silver sparkles in the great hall, when the exhausted prince collapses and cries finally, like a child, in disappointment and sorrow, Merlin thinks it's over.

He does not know that in Morgana's room, the princess contemplates a dagger she holds tight in her hand until a thin trickle of blood runs down her wrist. Her dainty features are frozen in a deep expression of hatred and her porcelain skin glistens in the moonlight, like Morgause's face.

Everything is so different, after that night.

Morgana smiles and she picks up flowers that she braids in crowns, simpering and clinging to her father's arm as if nothing had happened. Arthur roams the castle like a ghost, barking orders scathingly. He does not come to Gaius' chambers for ages and ignores the invitations to come to the croaked oak that Lancelot sends him when he returns from his wandering.

Merlin tries to cheer up the prince, but it looks like he does everything wrong. He mixes up vials and instead of putting salt in the bath, almost poisons it – Gaius fortunately finds out just in time. While setting up one of the crossbows that adorn the walls of his lord's room, he accidentally fires a dart that scratches his master's ear. The strap of Arthur's saddle gives up while he's parading in the courtyard and the humiliation is total. Exhausted by the stress he undergoes because of his misadventures, Merlin falls asleep in the stables he was sent to muck and when he wakes up, all the horses have run away.

This time, enough is enough. Arthur, infuriated, decides he no longer needs Merlin and hires the horrible Cedric, the boot-licking bearded manservant who persecutes Merlin when he has the misfortune to come down from the royal floors.

His eyes brimming with tears, straw stitching into his hair and dung matting the whole left side of his face, Merlin runs away without looking back. Gaius founds him in his tiny bedroom, sitting on the edge of his bed, his hands clutched on his jacket.

\- "What happened?" asks the old man, gently wiping the dung smudged on the boy's face and neck.

\- "I'm not an idiot", Merlin rasps bitterly.

The court physician's heart sinks. He keeps cleaning the dirty cheekbone with a cloth.

\- "No, you're not, Merlin", he says firmly.

He will later joke about the smell or the mess of the servant's clothing which could suggest that, yes, he _is_ an idiot. But for now he just sighs and pats the boy's shoulder to comfort him. He cups in his hand the angular chin and lifts it.

\- "One day Arthur will see you for what you really are", he says, enfolding his ward in a fatherly look.

\- "But _when_?" asks Merlin, his throat knotted.

Gaius shakes his head. He looks so grave in his long green robes.

\- "I don't know. But I am certain you and him are called to a great destiny and you are going to serve and protect him for years ..."

Merlin's jaw is still trembling and his lips pursed to stop the crying.

He has grown up so much since he first arrived in Camelot. Gaius leans over and kisses his forehead despite the muddy tracks smearing the pale skin of the boy he loves like his own son.

\- "Sleep, Merlin. Things will be better tomorrow."

But that's not quite true. Tomorrow turns into the day after tomorrow, then into the week that comes next. It takes _so many_ _days_ until Cedric reveals his true nature. Arthur catches him chopping black snakes and forcing children to swallow the heads. The churning in his stomach tells the prince something is worst than the disgusting cooking. He warns his manservant that he condemns such barbaric practices and will be forced to fire him if he finds out it was done again. Later, while hunting, when a wild boar charges at the heir to Camelot – whose foot is stuck in a rabbit hole and who has already planted his spear in the backbone of the beast, not slowing it down the least – Cedric makes a run for his life and disappears. During the few seconds when he believes he will die eviscerated, memories scroll before the eyes of Arthur: other hunts where Merlin, his big ears red of fear and blue eyes owlishly staring, did not back down an inch in front of the onslaught of a wild beast, staying close to his master to protect him.

When he returns to the castle – safe and sound, because the other members of the party were not completely useless – Arthur has decided. He fills a bag with the pieces of his armor and goes to Gaius' chambers.

There is something of his former supercilious smile on his face when he announces to Merlin that he will have to clean the armor for the next day.

\- "So that means you admit I was right?" quips the boy with the impossible joyful grin that make stars sparkle in his eyes.

 _Why does Merlin_ always _forgive him?_

Arthur coughs embarrassingly and walks off with a scoff.

He will not say out loud that _Merlin_ was right, but he knows deep inside that _he_ was wrong.

The year is coming to an end and the harsh and long winter is almost over. It will soon be spring again. The snow melts in icy droplets along the gutters. The streets of Camelot are mined with muddy ruts in which trundles a cart topped with a wooden cage.

Behind the bars, a girl shivers in her rags, crouched on a moldy bed of straw.

People come out of the tavern and she watches them without saying anything. Her scruffy long brown hair falls over her shoulders and her wrists are bruised by her chains. She stares out, like if she wasn’t really here.

\- "Who is this?" Merlin asks, stopping and cocking his head to try to catch the eye of the prisoner.

For a moment, two chestnut colored irises meet intrigued cobalt orbs.

Lancelot and Gaius turn and share a pained look.

\- "Come here, my boy", calls the old man, holding out his hand.

Lancelot goes back and drives away the lad, gently but firmly.

\- "She's a witch", whispers the young man. "Or at least she was sentenced as such. The king will have her executed tomorrow."

Merlin stops again and his haunted eyes cast a glance towards the cage.

\- "Like Cedric?" he utters, ashen.

Gaius purses his lips.

It was proven that Arthur's former manservant was indeed a sorcerer, a few months ago, and the sly man died on the pyre. Merlin was traumatized.

\- "But ... she's not a witch! She's just ... a _girl_ ", the boy protests, breaking free from Lancelot's hand.

\- "Come on", insists the old physician. "You can't help her."

They go back home, but Merlin does not even sit on his bed. He paces in the alcove until Lancelot, who's lying on his makeshift mattress on the floor, crosses his arms behind his neck and lets out a long sigh.

\- "Shall we go free her? I would like to sleep and if it's all it takes to calm you down ..."

He was half-joking, but the boy's smile immediately melts away his last doubts. When the town clock strikes midnight, Lancelot finds himself in the cobbled street, trying to shear off the chain locks, swearing through his clenched teeth. Merlin has put his hand in between the bars and touched the ankle of the prisoner curled up in her tattered dress. They gaze at each other in wonder, like two souls that were lost and meet again after a long journey.

When guards show up around the corner, Lancelot has just the time to dive behind two ringed barrels. Merlin and the girl disappear in the night, light as two elves. They're holding hands.

Lancelot sighs again, then he hides his tools under his coat and goes home rubbing his neck. He feels strangely happy, but he is not quite certain he made the right choice.

The next day, the whole city is upside-down, looking for the witch, and the old physician rolls terribly suspicious eyes at the young man who yawns in front of his porridge. Merlin has already nipped off to Arthur's chambers, but before he left, he told Lancelot the girl was called Freya.

_And that she is beautiful just like a princess._

Later in the day, when Arthur meets his friend, he asks absently if Lancelot knows what's happening to Merlin. He has never seen his manservant so distracted: he almost scalded the prince with his bath and during breakfast, his guise was of one lying.

Now, everyone knows, Merlin _can't lie_ for the life of him.

Lancelot easily dodges the question, nonchalantly inquiring about the progress of the witch hunt. Arthur rolls his eyes and his shoulders sag.

\- "Another of my father's whims", he sighs. "That poor girl probably doesn't have the slightest magic in her. It seems she was found covered in blood in a barn, next to a dead man."

He looks away and Lancelot understands what he does not say.

\- "I guess she is more to be pitied than the actual victim ..."

Merlin cries, that night, curled up under his blanket to muffle his sobs, and by the candlelight, his friend looks at him with a heavy heart.

Freya surely told him her story.

The next day, it's a frustrated Arthur who almost bumps into Lancelot, going down the main street of Camelot.

\- "Have you seen Merlin?"

\- "No", Lancelot answers honestly, before seeing something that turns his blood cold.

In the distance, at the corner of a stall, guards have grabbed a lanky boy dressed in a red tunic and a brown jacket. The prince turns round, intrigued, and his eyes widened immediately. He rushes up the street to the tussle and arrives just in time to prevent the sergeant from thrusting his fist into the terrified face of Merlin.

\- "This one knows something!" bellows the guard when his prey is snatched from him.

\- "He robbed you, Your Highness!" hollers the other soldier, pointing at the sausages that have mysteriously disappeared during Arthur's breakfast and are now scattered on the dirty pavement in all their glory.

The prince clears his throat. His eyes blaze with authority.

\- "This is my manservant, I speak for him. Let him go. Get your hands off him, I say."

The two men leave, grumbling, and Arthur turns to Merlin who is getting up, his heart pounding in his chest, after carefully picking up the sausages.

\- " _Mer_ lin?"

\- "I just want to make sure you don't get fat!" stammers the manservant, smiling awkwardly, not knowing that his left eye is blinking rapidly and his cheekbones are flushed.

_Oh it is so easy to see through him ..._

Arthur nods, resigned and amused despite himself.

\- "Scram."

And when the impossibly long legs of the boy have taken him far enough from the bystanders, he turns to Lancelot.

\- "Don't you have something to tell me? Why is he acting like this?"

Lancelot looks as innocent as he can manage.

\- "I know nothing", he says.

He gives a chortle at the prince's disappointed snort and runs along before he has to betray either of his friends. On his way to Gaius' chambers, that night, he meets Guinevere and it is his turn to feel his heart pounding. She accepts that he walks her home and carries her basket of mending to do. He listens to her babbling, amazed, answers in monosyllables because, like every time she is near him, he doesn't know where his brains are gone.

\- "Do you know what's coming over Merlin, these days?" Guinevere asks in the midst of her one-sided conversation. "I saw him getting out of the Lady Morgana's room with a dress, just now. He told me there were _moths_ in the castle."

In the distance, the warning bell is resounding and Lancelot suddenly figures out what's happening.

_Merlin is going to run away with the girl._

_How high are the chances he will be caught in the act and condemned to death with the witch he wanted to save?_

He hastily leaves Guinevere who does not understand why his face is suddenly so dark, and runs all the way home. Breathless, he breaks into Gaius' chambers and finds the old man, sitting at the table, his head in his hands.

\- "Where's Merlin?"

\- "He's gone", stammers the physician. "It's that girl, isn't it?"

Lancelot nods, his throat clogged with panic. He seeks his sword, grabs his cloak and goes searching the streets, desperate. It is night already. He hears calls and barking, sees the light of torches on the walls, hides in corners to avoid being seen, roams the back alleys and whistles Merlin's favorite tune behind the piles of barrels or under the timber chariots.

But he does not find his friend and fatigue adds to his growing fear with each passing hour. When dawn rises above the thatched roofs, gleaming brightly on the white stones of the crenels, haloing the towers in golden warmth and hope, Lancelot begins to breathe a little better. He leans against a pillar under an awning, to rest a little.

Merlin must have successfully fled out of the city, one way or another. If he had been arrested, there would have been shouting and shoving, somewhere.

The morning is crispy cold and the breeze has a tangy taste.

It's the fragrance of the newborn spring.

\- "They're here!"

His heart makes a looping in his chest and hangs back painfully. He straddles through an empty stall, climbs over a collapsed stone wall, gets into a dead end, climbs on top of a cottage, jumps into a pigsty, hustles two women coming out of the bakery with warm rolls and runs until he feels a painful stitch to his side and his throat scraped by the taste of blood, and his ears wheezing.

The soldiers are in front of the castle, where the well-trimmed lawns give way to a large field of weeds. There, almost at the edge of the forest that will be their refuge, two figures are hurrying away, holding hands.

Arthur is standing among his men and his lips are pinched. He raises his crossbow, leans the wedge against his shoulder and closes one eye. He has the woman in his shooting angle. He could hit her leg to keep her from running away ... and make sure she's brought back to the castle to be burned in the courtyard, as his father ordered.

Something churns in his stomach.

 _The poor girl does not deserve such a cruel death, regardless of her crime - if she really_ is _guilty._

Then he makes his decision and pulls the trigger.

_It is better to kill her cleanly, to strike her in between her shoulders. She won't suffer long._

The wail of agony reaches his ears at the very moment someone grips his arm violently.

\- "Arthur, _no_!"

He looks up, surprised.

\- "Lancelot?"

The young man's eyes are filled with horror and he shakes his head.

\- "Arthur, this is _Merlin_ ..." he pants.

The prince raises his arm to stop his men, almost as a reflex. The wisps on his neck stand as he turns back to the field.

The woman has fallen, but for a second, he catches sight of the red tunic and brown jacket dangling on the frail frame that looks like...

_Gods ... Merlin ..._

He finds the strength to send the guards away with a brief order, a little breathless. They do not argue. Some of them glance at him, slightly startled, but the others seem rather relieved that he put an end to the quarry.

Nobody likes witch hunting and the soldiers know they're due to Uther's madness more to the real need of protecting the kingdom.

Lancelot does not wait for them to be all gone and hastens toward the couple. Arthur follows more slowly, his crossbow heavy at the end of his arm.

He dreads what awaits him at the edge of the forest.

Haggard, on his knees, Merlin is hunched over a girl barely older than him, with tangled long brown hair, who contemplates him gently, as if she doesn't feel the wound in her back. Blood slowly soaks what used to be one of Morgana's dresses, which the girl wears like if she was royalty.

\- "There must be something I can do to save you!" Merlin stammers through his tears.

She smiles. She doesn't have the strength to raise her hand to stroke his cheek, but there is so much warmth in her voice that Lancelot and Arthur feel her tenderness as if it enveloped them too.

\- "You already saved me ... You showed me I was loved ..." she answers fondly.

Merlin's shoulders are shaking with sobs.

\- "I don't want you to go!" he begs in a hiccup.

\- "One day, Merlin… we'll meet again ... I promise ..."

Her eyelashes flutter lightly on her cheeks, hiding her chestnut-colored irises, as innocent as Merlin's eyes and he lets out a muffled cry.

\- "No ... no ..."

He rocks her, hugging the slumped frame, presses her face against his shoulder, stroking the long tangled curls and weeps, weeps like he's never going to stop, as if it were the end of the world, silently and quietly, like a wounded bird.

In the silence of dawn, tree leaves rustle gently and raindrops fall on Arthur's face. The sun hems the field in gold and dyes the wild grass in pale purple.

Everything is so beautiful, so perfect. So terribly sad.

Lancelot moves very slowly, as not to upset the delicate balance of this great sorrow. He crouches down and puts his hand on Merlin's shoulder.

\- "Come. We must say goodbye before the guards come back for her body ..."

Arthur blanches at this sentence and almost convulsively turns to the city behind them.

_Yes. His father will claim the remains of the witch. He needs to create a story to divert his attention from the accomplice who helped her escape._

He bends over.

\- "Let's take her to the lake", he tells Lancelot.

His friend nods and suddenly Merlin looks up with his red-rimmed eyes.

\- A lake?

The prince gathers all his strength not to flinch in front of the pain he reads in the cobalt orbs.

\- "Yes, Merlin. A lake. It's not far from here. We will build her a raft and send her off to Avalon, like a queen ..."

Merlin nods gravely, his arms still tightly hugging the girl who is not breathing, her pale face leaning against the boy's shoulder like if she was simply asleep.

\- "She was a real princess, Arthur ..."

\- "I know."

Lancelot helped a bit when he saw the skinny legs buckle under the weight of his load, but it was Merlin who carried Freya all the way to the lake. When he lays her down onto the moist and dark green grass, panting, his neck painful and his arms numb, Lancelot starts looking for branches and finds an old boat by the bank. He pulls it up and checks it does not leak while Merlin gets loads of heather. Then he makes a bow and looks for flint stones on the path. Arthur disappears for a while and when he returns, he brings a bouquet of clumsily picked up flowers, with too short stems and slightly wrinkled petals, that his manservant receives as if they were a priceless gift. They preciously put Freya in the heather bed and arrange the flowers around her, as good as they can.

When everything is ready, Merlin smoothes one last time the beautiful dress, lightly squeezes the bruised wrist.

\- "Goodbye, Freya…" he whispers, leaning over to kiss her on the forehead.

Lancelot and Arthur help him to push the boat to the middle of the lake, then come back to the bank. Arthur hesitates, then he turns silently towards Lancelot, with a beseeching look.

_You do it… I can't. Not after what I've done…_

His friend nods wordlessly. He sets the improvised arrow in fire after a few failed attempts, and bends the arc.

Merlin is standing with water up to his knees, his eyes staring at the boat that goes away.

The golden shot swishes across the sky and reaches the target that ignites without a sound.

Merlin's blue eyes are filled with tears that who no longer stream down his hollow cheeks. He does not move, only shudders. Arthur does not dare to approach to tell him to get out of the bloody frozen lake. There's a clot in the back of his throat and he wonders if there would be such despair on Merlin's face, if it was _him_ in the boat.

It is Lancelot who gets the manservant out of the water and gently leads him back to the castle, to a warm fire, to Gaius.

\- "Merlin, if I die someday ... will you do this for me too? Can you send me off to Avalon in a boat on the lake, like Freya?"

Merlin nods in a daze. He leans more heavily against Lancelot who half carries him and continues to whisper words of comfort.

Arthur follows them and feels so useless and dirty and guilty he does not even know what to do with himself. He goes back directly to the Great Hall, once he's seen – through the ajar door because he did not dare to come in – Gaius who was swathing Merlin in his arms, softly saying "I'm sorry, my boy, I'm so sorry ..." in the room bathed in parchment light.

Uther is quite pleased to know they got rid of the witch, but sorry to learn the accomplice jumped from a cliff and disappeared into a flooded river. Well, in the end, Camelot is safe, all is fine, and he pats his son's shoulder with approval.

Arthur stiffens. He greets his father then returns to his chambers where he spent the rest of the day looking through the window. The next morning, his decision is made.

He ignores Merlin's puffy eyes and gives him all of his boots and those of his garrison to polish in retaliation for stealing his breakfast. And when he is about sure his voice will not falter, he sits next to his manservant and shoves his shoulder.

\- "I'm sorry, Merlin ..." he says quietly.

The boy turns to him and something which looks like the shadow of that smile that lights up people's lives passes over his face.

\- "It was not very nice of you to dump that pitcher of water over my head", he assents very seriously.

It takes a few seconds for Arthur to remember that's what he did the day before – seems like it was a thousand years ago.

\- "We're even: you said I was _fat_ ", he retorts in an unsteady voice.

_"You know very well this is not what I'm sorry for, Merlin ..."_

The cobalt orbs shaded by dark eyelashes contemplate him gently.

_"I know."_

Then Merlin tilts his head to the side and the sun plays in transparency on his ears lobes, glossing in his messy black hair and on the wooden floor of the room.

\- "But you _are_ fat."

Arthur is about to scoff, when he feels laughter tickle the back of his throat. He hesitates, then allows himself to mirror Merlin's smile.

Outside, spring slowly warms up the thatched roofs and the white stones of Camelot.

The year is over and they are still here, together. Despite everything.

* * *

_**TBC** _


	3. OF MEAD AND CLOBBERS

\- "Rise and shine!" trumpets Merlin's voice and Arthur growls, sinking back deeper under the covers.

_Why_ _so much energy in the morning? It's ungodly..._

The servant draws open the curtains and the sun invades the room, spilling its warm light on the polished furniture and the breakfast table with the smell of bacon and fresh loaf from the bakery. Arthur inhales the delicious scent, but refuses to open his eyes and get out of his cocoon. He fumbles around in search of something to throw in the direction of the intruder, but is forced to crack open an eyelid when he finds nothing.

\- "Mmm…Mr'lin ... g'way ..."

\- "Get up, Sire!" tweets the manservant, undaunted. "The day's beautiful and you have work to do!"

In the next five seconds, he _will_ pull the quilt in one go and send Arthur to the floor like a sheet-twined sausage.

Or perch on the bed casually, and _that_ , that means only one thing.

_Oh no, not_ _AGAIN..._

The prince rolls to his side and opens his eyes, wrinkling his nostrils, dazzled by the sun playing in his tousled blond hair. He lifts himself on his elbow, putting his naked arm over the vermilion velvet blankets.

\- " _Mer_ lin. _Do_ _n't_ tell me you got another one."

The servant grins, his sharp cheekbones almost hiding his blue eyes sparkling with mirth. He half-opens his jacket to preserve the surprise, then puts on the bed a ball of gray and tawny fur that sputters angrily.

\- "She was in the armory. Cute, innit?"

Arthur moistens his lips and pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath.

\- "It's a bloody _cat_ , Merlin."

Why are these wretched animals always ending up crossing paths with his manservant? It's not sorcery the king should ban but feline romance! In the two years Merlin was at his service, the Prince has seen _hundreds_ of kittens. There's no way he'll manage again to smuggle it to Cook to drown it quietly: the woman would have a stroke.

All of Camelot surrounding villages are equipped with rat-catchers for the next three decades and the knights have warned Arthur that they do no longer believe in his fibs (he told them cats helped mollify a lady's heart).

The prince sighs, scratching distractedly the small pointed ears of the kitten that staggers on the scarlet quilt, her tail straight in the air like a hazel catkin.

It's his _dogs_ that should be sleeping in the bedroom and wake him with their yapping, like any other young nobleman fond of hunting. This is what would be _normal_ for the king's son. But the hounds almost devoured Merlin alive the only time he tried to set things right...

\- "Merlin, you can't save all the cats in the kingdom. You have to let natural selection do its deed."

It's a lost cause, but he keeps preaching it, hoping that a day will come when he is not woken up in the morning by a feeble meow - like a _girl_.

_Ah. Idea._

\- "Why don't you ask Morgana to keep it?" he asked with renewed incentive, sitting and swinging his legs out of the four-poster bed.

\- "Guinevere forbid it", pouts Merlin, indignant, while slipping the sleeves of the linen tunic over his master's arms.

Arthur rolls his eyes and puts on his boots.

 _Guinevere must be a_ genius _to have achieved this._

He goes to his breakfast tray, picks up a cherry tomato on the plate and gobbles it up while thinking. On his bed, the kitten walks in circles, squealing plaintively.

\- Anyways, I can't keep your new best friend. And, _no_ , Merlin, this is not a gift, and I will _not_ accept it. Do whatever you want, but get rid of it before I come back from the Concil."

The manservant's ears flop down as he glances towards the cat he had hoped to settle in the prince's chambers and play with every morning. Then his blue eyes lighten up mischievously.

\- "Uh-oh."

Arthur frowns and turns round before gasping in disgust.

\- "Ha, it pissed!" he yelps. "No, _Mer_ lin, not _again_! Get this vermin out of my room right now! _Shift_! And I warn you, if you ever bring another one again, I will _slay_ it!"

Merlin hurries to remove the kitten by the scruff of her neck and flees into the corridor, leaving the prince alone with his breakfast and a lovely fragrant yellowish halo in the middle of the mattress.

_Good thing he's got staff to do the laundry..._

At noon, the case is not yet forgotten. Arthur has decided he has to hit hard if he no longer wishes his bed to be used as a latrine by the stray cats of the kingdom. He sends Guinevere to the terrace to get his manservant who is hanging out the sheets flapping in the wind to dry them, and orders Merlin to prepare their horses and food for several days: the weather is nice and his father does not need him for forty-eight hours so he has decided to go hunting.

Merlin drags his feet and grumbles, but he can not help but obey. From his window overlooking the courtyard of the castle, Gaius shakes his head, amused, as he watches them leave. He holds in his arms the kitten rescued by his ward. Perhaps this family in the lower town might enjoy the gift of the creature doomed to all torments by Arthur: they are street vendors and they have a little girl the old physician treated for her bad cough.

Gaius is starting to run out of ideas to dispatch the blasted cats...

Two days later, the prince and his manservant come out of the woods, mucky and tired, and gaze at a village below in the valley. The good weather gave way to a warm drizzle and the chimneys are smoking under the dull sky.

\- "Do you know what's most enjoyable after a hunt?" asks Arthur, resting his crossbow against his shoulder.

\- "A bath?" Merlin ventures, sulking. "Sleeping?"

He carries several dead beasts – gray furry rabbits and pheasants hung on a hemp thread like beads on a necklace – and his face is smeared with dirt. He is cold, wet and he hates the smell of gamy meat that surrounds his load.

\- "A nice tankard of mead!" says the prince still in a hopelessly good mood. "See the pointed roof, there? I bet it's a tavern. Let's go!"

They get their horses from the clearing where they slept and go down the hill to the quiet village nestled in the valley. Merlin is rumbling again: public places make him nervous, he'd rather gather herbs for Gaius in a dark corner of the forest than going to the market. The prince, who is still on a pay-back scroll enjoys hearing him rattle on his heels and goes in the tavern after tying his horse to the fence outside.

\- "Now, remember", he whispers, "I'm just a boorish peasant like everyone else in here."

\- "Boorish part's right", Merlin mutters under his breath, following his master, his nose on his hackneyed boots.

\- "What did you say?" Arthur asks, sitting down at a table after a satisfied look around.

\- "I said mead's all right."

The young man gives a big slap on Merlin's shoulder, who rubs his arm with a pained look.

\- "Oh, but _you_ are not drinking mead!" grins the prince. "You believe you're a goblin after guzzling three drops of cider, I don't wish to tempt fate."

It is very lively around them, there is roaring of laughter, strong odors and dice games. A man sucks his soup noisily, some others are watching what might be a dung beetles race, a drunkard is dozing on the edge of the counter, his hair matted with what can be remnants of vomit or porridge.

\- "What'll it be?" asks the matron, approaching to wipe the table with a cloth as dirty as her apron. Her opulent chest joggles almost out of her dress and Merlin stares at it, his eyes slightly bulging.

\- "A tankard of mead for me and a cup of goat milk for this one", coughs Arthur, kicking his manservant under the table.

The woman goes away after whispering "aren't you one handsome fellow?" to Merlin who blushes to the tip of his protruding ears when her dress grazes his shoulder.

The Prince is on the verge of exploding with laughter when he hears the tenant send her maidservant to "get mead to the blonde one with mouse teeth." He's mortified and Merlin giggles uncontrollably, muttering something about Arthur's dislike for his cats.

Then a big burly man smelling of urine and boiled leather walks across the tavern and bullies the fat lady. Arthur hears the call of chivalry - or perhaps has drunk his mead too fast - and he stands up to defend the woman's honor.

\- "Get out, brat, if you don't want to be fed to the pigs", growls the man with the scarred face, giving a grim look at the bulky blonde who thinks he's stuff of legend.

\- "I'd like to see you try", chuckles Merlin in the suddenly very quiet room, drawing all eyes to him and getting a scolding frown from Arthur.

\- "Oh, you _had_ to open your big mouth, didn't you, _Mer_ lin?"

Next thing they know, the whole place is a mess. Benches are flying, fists crushing cartilage, there is blood, bile and beer everywhere, plates are shattering and the tavern has turn into a melee like the one that took place in Camelot a few days ago – minus the swords, fortunately.

Merlin snicks into a corner after distributing a few kicks and dodged a substantial number of strokes: he's lithe and so thin that it _is_ difficult to aim at him, even from close. From behind the counter, he throws mugs at the fighters and helps the tenant to save the pitchers that are still in one piece, until someone calls out for him.

It is a young bearded man with brown hair billowing around his face with style, even though he seems to fight while being drunk. Taken by surprise, Merlin gives him the pitcher he's asking for and, stunned, watches him quaff large swigs of mead before slamming the jug on the head of one of the pugilists.

\- "What do they call you, then?"

\- "Merlin", stutters Arthur's manservant, fascinated by the masterly way in which the bloke strikes down his opponents while looking bored.

\- "Gwaine. Pleasure to meet you!" says pleasantly the man before resuming to the fight with delight.

He grabs a ruffian three times bigger than him and twists his arm behind his back, knocks out another, swirls in the melee kicking around skillfully with his knees and elbows and ends up back to back with Arthur who grins despite the sweat dripping down his face and continues to smash the rogues with the back-up of the young man who is clearly from another mold than the rest of the customers.

Five minutes later, it's over.

The man who assaulted the fat lady is pinned to the ground by Gwaine who has hurled him down before he could stab Arthur.

\- "Thank you, my friend", says the prince, holding out his hand.

\- "Gwaine's the name, mate", snorts the young man getting up with a sassy smile that quickly turns into a grimace of pain.

\- "He's hurt!" Merlin cries, rushing to him – and bumping his forehead against the edge of the counter when he stoops to pass under the board instead lifting it.

\- "Ouch", sighs Arthur wearily, before helping his servant to tie a cloth around the wound and ordering someone to put the thug who started this mess in the stocks. People mutter, not quite sure who he thinks he is, but they obey.

When Arthur takes this air of authority, he always gets what he wants. Merlin calls it "his majestic voice."

When the tavern is about tidy - the prince himself helped to put back the tables on their feet – two peasants hoist Gwaine on Arthur's saddle and the prince leaves after promising the villagers that Camelot will come to their help if they ever need it again ... He is incredibly cool when he drops that they have "his word, the word of the king's son" and Merlin would smirk if he was not so worried about the injured stranger.

Back at the castle, Gaius sews nicely the not too serious gash and Gwaine spends the night in the tiny bedroom. The old physician subjects the newcomer to interrogation the next day and learns that he is the son of a knight from Caerleon's army. Gwaine begs him to conceal his identity: he would much rather be a vagabond and does not want to tie himself to land or master. There is bitterness in his jaunty voice, something resigned that Merlin does not understand. The manservant came back from Arthur's chambers all excited: Uther wants to thank Gwaine in person, but the man turns down the reward and simply enjoys the free lodging for the few days of his convalescence.

Arthur visits him, laughs and shoves shoulders with him, shares tales of brawls and girls, trying to convince him to stay. He sees in Gwaine the same loyal and courageous soul he found in Lancelot and really struggles to accept that his new friend will be gone when he could stay and become a knight – which is forbidden to Lancelot.

Gaius would like his chambers to be back to a sanctuary of science and rare herbs, rather than being the extension to the tavern where Arthur can not go because of his status. The day before Gwaine's departure, the old physician sighs as he's putting blankets on the shoulders of the two men who have fallen asleep with their tankards of mead still in hand, then he slips into bed, wondering where Merlin's gone when his master is here, completely drunk.

Arthur dreams of what his life could be if he was not the son of Uther Pendragon, if he didn't have to face every day the man who is responsible for the death of his mother, if he didn't need to stay away from the people he love, and in his heavy slumber, his lips are sadly pursed.

Meanwhile, Merlin has other worries. The king has two guests, knights the boy immediately put in his "creepy" category. Sir Oswald and Sir Ethan may have perfect manners among the Court, they behave like two hogs with the castle staff. Sir Ethan made Guinevere cry and wash her mouth ten times at the fountain and now she trembles like a leaf every time she hears his voice down the corridor. Merlin's arms are aching from carrying the heavy trunks back and forth, he never got time to eat and his lower back burns, where Sir Oswald's whip scourged him when he was not fast enough to bring the man his armor.

He is late to bring Arthur his breakfast and the prince, who has a hangover, acts quite shabbily with him. When he leaves the room with a tray of dirty dishes, tears are welling up in Merlin's eyes and he's clenching his jaws angrily when he bumps against Gwaine who's wandering in the castle, snaking on an apple.

\- "What's up, mate?" kindly asks the young man, peering at the manservant's gloomy face.

\- "Nothing", grunts Merlin, hiding the frustrated sparkle in his blue eyes under his long dark eyelashes.

\- "Is it something His Highness said?" Gwaine insists.

\- "No", mutters the boy who runs off, not realizing that he limps a little.

In his anger when discovering his bath was tepid instead of hot, Sir Ethan has thrown him against the door, this morning, and his hip hurts.

 _"They're nobles, it's useless to complain"_ , said Guinevere again last night, while brushing the soap-soaked tunics she was washing so hard she could have teared them apart.

Merlin only comes to understand that Arthur really is a good master, even though he often throws things at him.

Arthur has never thrown a _knife_ at him at least.

Arthur makes fun of him when he's exhausted during the hunts, but he slows down his horse and calls for a break.

Arthur locks him under his armpit and knuckle-shampoos him sometimes, forces him to don a far too big armor for his thin frame and makes him hold the target when he practices the mace - which it's terrifying - but he has never _hit_ him just to be mean.

Merlin is miserable and he does not know who to talk to.

Gaius seems annoyed and answers in monosyllables, immersed in his sorting of vials.

The Prince and Morgana are having lunch with the king, and Guinevere and George are serving them.

The lanky boy brings the tray to the kitchen, then he curls up in a corner in between two columns in the courtyard, and buries his face in his folded arms.

Someone sits down next to him and an elbow settles on his shoulder, unceremoniously friendly.

\- "What's the matter, mate?" Gwaine asks.

Merlin wipes the tears smearing his chin.

\- "I'm fine", he says hoarsely.

Gwaine scratches his eyebrow, chewing on nothing, then he throws back his brown curls and his white teeth smile in his beard.

\- "I reckon you're not", he says simply.

The ripple of the hooves of a horse entering the courtyard interrupts him.

\- "MERLIN!" roars a roguish voice.

The gangly boy stands up immediately, his arms tight along his body. Gwaine stays crouched behind the white column to observe the scene.

Sir Oswald dismounts and complains of who knows what, a boar or the bad weather. He grabs Merlin's slender shoulder and shakes it so hard he could dislocate it.

Gwaine frowns and gets up.

\- "You all right, Merlin?" he inquires grimly.

The manservant's cobalt orbs beg him silently. Sir Oswald eyes the young man up and down scornfully and snorts disdainfully at his mended clothes.

\- "Scram", he barks.

\- "I'm not talking to you", says Gwaine in a threateningly composed voice.

He puts his hand on Merlin's shoulder and his look becomes icy when he feels the tremor that shakes the frail body of the boy.

\- "I thought I told you to go to hell", utters Sir Oswald, angry and incredulous at the lack of attention payed to him.

\- "Let's go, Merlin", says Gwaine, dragging away the manservant.

Sir Oswald shivers with ire and draws his sword out, earning a spit of despise from Gwaine who turns back.

\- "You'd attack a man from behind? So not only are you a swine, but also a coward."

The knight surges forward under Merlin's horrified gaze, but Gwaine loosely dodges the attack and chortles sarcastically, driving his opponent mad.

When Arthur and the other lords come out in the yard a few moments later, Gwaine is presently teaching a lesson to Sir Oswald with _his_ _own_ whip that was rolled against his saddle.

The king is outraged and calls the guards who quickly separate the two men and force Gwaine to kneel on the cobbled ground. Merlin bits his lips in despair, messing up his hair in a helpless gesture. Arthur frowns and when Sir Oswald is done giving his version of events, the prince intervenes before his father condemns Gwaine.

Surely, the young man who saved his life at the tavern deserves to be allowed to explain himself.

Gwaine acidly describes the scene he has just witnessed, and to Uther's surprise, Morgana steps forward to say her maid also suffered ill-treatment from the knight.

It is not enough to release Gwaine, however, because a commoner has no rights to hassle a noble in front of the law. Arthur wracks his brains to pull off the hot-blooded fool out of this mess, but he is short of arguments and sees the moment when his father will banish Gwaine from Camelot at the very least, if he doesn't actually hang him.

This is when Gaius walks through the crowd at his slow pace, his long purple robes brushing the cobblestones with the dignity of a wise old man. Unmoved - and placidly ignoring the fulminating glances Gwaine is throwing at him, he explains that the man is of noble blood.

And everything suddenly changes.

The king relents, suggests that Sir Oswald could clear the affront in a duel with swords, and the day ends with the sudden departure of the humiliated and furious knight.

Merlin is beaming, Arthur mumbles that someone should have let him know the staff was in trouble, Guinevere smolders Morgana with a grateful look and Gwaine shrugs. He crakes one last joke, flirts with the maidservant under the suddenly much less brotherly gaze of the prince, pats Merlin's shoulder with fondness, then picks up his bag and goes off, just like he had said he would.

Gaius gets back the usual quietness of his chambers and smiles like an old prophet, looking out the window at the figure of a generous tramp who disappears down the main street of Camelot.

Who knows, maybe someday Gwaine will return…

_When Arthur_ _will be king._

A king worthy of the loyalty of a man who is still seeking his right place in this world.

* * *

_**TBC** _

* * *

**_Next chapter coming up : FLIPPING A COIN INTO THE STARS._ **

**_Lancelot meets Gwaine and a new addition is made to the gang: someone with a big heart and a BIG frame!_ **


	4. FLIPPING A COIN INTO THE STARS

His hands on his hips, Arthur watches them, wondering if things can get even more ridiculous.

Gwaine and Lancelot are staring at each other like two back-arched tomcats on the ridge of a roof - or two lasses in front of a stall where's left only one embroidered scarf.

They are in the forest, in the clearing where the fire pit ended up digging a crater filled with gray ashes. They usually meet here, near the fishing spot where Lancelot takes Merlin on Thursday afternoons. The river flows along behind the trees, sparkling and quiet, and the sun plays through the thick foliage, gleaming on the metal buckles of the three men's clothes.

Arthur crosses his arms, a little annoyed, having thrown back his leather jacket. His dark blue collar is a little ajar and he is standing with his legs apart, pouting.

\- "Whenever you guys are ready…", he sighs.

Lancelot ends his silent examination of Gwaine and relaxes. The young man with long brown curls snorts in his beard and smirks too. They seal their new friendship with a knightly arm-shake, under Arthur's wry frown.

_He is far from being fooled: his manservant really has no idea what kind of a ridiculous hold he has on people._

If Gwaine and Lancelot had met in other circumstances, they might have ignored each other or became the best of friends right away, but _because_ Gwaine arrived with his arm thrown around _Merlin_ 's shoulders, Lancelot got up with that suspicious father-hen look and responded very coldly to the introduction.

_Arthur has no idea he was also in the equation._

Gwaine is not ready to let anyone spoil the prince who makes him want to serve a king, and Lancelot fears the negative influence that people can have on the gullible heir to Camelot.

\- "Everything fine?" he asks.

Gwaine has dropped carelessly on the log and forages in the embers with a stick to see if they are still hot. He cast his bag next to Lancelot's bundle.

\- " _No_ ", Arthur groans, while keeping an eye on his manservant who trudges into the woods in search of the herbs Gaius sent him fetch: their excuse to escape the stifling royal house when they received Lancelot's message.

Well, _actually_ , Arthur is supposed to be trysting with Princess Elena but she has lost him on the way, somewhere between the drawbridge and the mill on the Ealdor road.

\- "What's on your mind, Your Highness?" asks Lancelot patiently, and Gwaine rolls his eyes.

\- "His lordship is in a panic because the king has arranged his marriage to a _troll_ ", he chuckles, comically wiping his eyes, as if they were still wet.

Merlin told him everything last night and he even imitated the princess, ending his performance with a "Oh. Dear," that gave stomach cramps from laughing to the young man.

\- "She's _not_ a troll", protests a vexed Arthur immediately.

He struggles to find the right words to describe her and Lancelot himself begins to have a grin carving up in his cheek.

\- "She's ... err ... she's just… not quite... well…"

\- "She burps and farts like a paunchy innkeeper", bursts out Gwaine.

\- "The Lady Elena is just a little – _special_ ", infers the prince sheepishly. "She ... uh ... she's a good rider. That's for sure. Better at racing than walking with a long dress, anyway!"

The bearded young man stands, holding his ribs from laughing, and tries to enact the beautiful fall down the stairs he saw from Gaius' window this morning.

Lancelot smiles frankly now, but his eyes are filled with fondness when he turns to Arthur.

\- "Is there really nothing you like about her? I mean ... I guess you have no choice but to marry her, so you should try to find some good points about her. There's surely at least one."

Arthur mutters something inaudible - probably "why should I even try" - then shrugs and makes a chin gesture towards the carpet of bluebells further in the woods.

\- "Merlin has not classified her "creepy", he says simply.

Gwaine turns to cast a glance toward the manservant who is still rummaging among the flowers, bent double like a hunting heron, clasping his bag.

\- "Well, that's _something_."

Lancelot smiles.

\- "Merlin is a good judge of human character", he says.

Arthur is careful not to tell them that even though Merlin finds Lady Elena nice and funny, he has also clearly stated that he _disapproves_ of the idea of the wedding.

The fact this union benefits the kingdom or that Uther has expressed his annoyance in a rather obvious manner when his son weakly protested he felt disinclined to Hymen for the moment, _that_ does not matter to Merlin who has remained obstinate: "but you like _Guinevere_ , Arthur. You should only get married to her."

The prince is struggling with so complicated and confused feelings that he barely sleeps.

 _Hum._ _Uh ... maybe he_ does _appreciate_ _a bit - a lot - his sister's maid._

 _But_ _Lancelot is_ in love _with_ _Guinevere and you'd have to be_ blind _not to see it._

 _And_ _Gwaine mentioned lightly, the other day, that he was fairly sure the young woman refuted his advances because she already_ fancied _some bloke_ _._

Now, Arthur knows he's lost the case ... and yet he can not bring himself to abandon the fragile hope that flutters in the pit of his stomach when she lifts her hazel eyes and smiles at him in the hallways of Camelot.

He sighs heavily and sits on the log, tousling his blond hair with a frustrated grunt.

\- "I just needed _this_!"

Gwaine throws his water skin at him.

\- "At least, it's been more than five years now the country's at peace and the borders quiet. Don't repine, could be worse."

He is right and Arthur knows it. He might be able to win the melee against some of the best fighters of the five kingdoms and have already faced a significant number of bandits during patrols, he does not particularly want to find out what it is like to be at war. Gaius tends to say it is not nearly as epic and heroic as the tales claim it.

\- "What's the _other_ problem?" asks Lancelot who guessed Lady Elena was only the tip of the iceberg.

Arthur rubs his chin, frowning.

\- "Morgana", he replied eventually. "She's... gloomy, these days."

Gwaine clicks his tongue.

\- "Take her dancing."

Lancelot is about to say something when Merlin rushes towards them with his bag full of herbs and an impish grin.

\- "Sire! She found you!" he cries gleefully, pointing to a white horse through the trees. The other three catch a glimpse of the rider's dress and of her wheat-colored braids before the lady makes a wrong step and tumbles into the river.

Gwaine bursts out laughing immediately, but Lancelot frowns worriedly.

\- "Oh poor thing..."

Arthur gets up and brushes his jacket.

\- "I'll get her back to the castle", he sighs. " _Mer_ lin, my horse. Fellows, see you ... sometimes."

He looks so upset his friends spare him their jokes. The manservant hurries off to the horses and waits while glancing frequently towards the woman who is stepping out the river, far away, wringing her sleeves.

\- "It's the last moon crescent tonight", says Lancelot suddenly. "If you have no other obligations, will you join me? I know nothing better than a pint of cider savored under the stars to put thoughts in order. You're welcome too, Gwaine."

The young man nods vigorously.

\- "Oh, but I was coming anyway!" he quips, picking up his bag.

Arthur ponders for a while.

\- "Okay", he answers finally.

He has no time to add anything because his servant cheeps in happily.

\- "Yeah!"

\- Don't forget to bring these honey cookies Cook gave you last time", adds Lancelot, ruffling Merlin black hair fondly.

\- "But we must not let Arthur wolf down that many this time or he will be sick again and his stomach will make a racket like Lady Elena's this morning!" giggles the boy with big ears.

\- "I wasn't _sick_!" shouts the prince over his shoulder, walking away briskly in the general direction of his betrothed.

Lancelot laughs and Gwaine looks at him, slightly surprised.

\- "Do they often come see you?"

\- "When I'm around", replies laconically the commoner, gathering his things and flinging the strap of his bag over his shoulder. "The king does not know, of course. I think he doesn't get how stifled Arthur feels in the court ..."

\- "He'll have to get used to it when he's king", says Gwaine in a much more serious tone and Lancelot understands he will not regret accepting the friendship of this odd knightly tramp.

\- "Arthur's not ready yet", he says. "But that day will come."

His smile is full of trust.

\- "I have to get a friend in a village nearby. Do you want to come with me or are you going back to Gaius'?"

Gwaine throws back his wavy hair and flashes him the white teeth he is so proud of.

\- "Let's go, mate!"

When Merlin and Arthur get to the clearing, that night, Lancelot introduces a two meters tall man, with hands like laundry beaters and brawny limbs, whose eyes are soft and gentle.

\- "Meet Percival. He's a very good tracker and I've never seen anyone win a wrestle against him."

Gwaine, who is in the process of getting out a piece of apple stuck between his teeth, shakes his chin.

\- "You bet", he mumbles.

Arthur studies the newcomer from top to bottom, then grants him a genuine smile.

\- "I'm Arthur Pendragon."

\- "Pleasure to meet you, Sire", greets the man in a respectful tone, bowing briefly.

The eyes of the prince sparkle in the firelight.

He is eager to face this one in a duel - tomorrow or in the coming days. Oh, if only the first law of Camelot did not exist! This man seems to be made from the same cloth as Lancelot and what sovereign would not be honored to have them as knights in his service ...

Arthur never thought much of the children of the nobility, either too weak or too cruel to his liking, but he only begins to realize that apart from the brave knights who serve his father there _are_ also men of honor among the _people_.

\- "You met ...?"

\- "In an ambush", quietly says Lancelot who puts the cider jugs against the dead log so they won't tip. "Saved my life."

\- "Anyone would have done the same", Percival mumbles, scratching his neck, a little embarrassed.

Locusts rustle in the fragrant grass around them and the breeze feels good after this hot summer day. Above them, the sky is filled with ink and a billion stars are twinkling.

\- " _Mer_ lin", calls the prince. "Bring your bony bottom over here and get these honey cookies out of your bag before we'll all starve."

The lanky boy lays down one more blanket than comes closer, casting a suspicious glance at Percival who peers at him curiously.

\- "That's Merlin", Lancelot says. "Arthur's manservant, and my friend."

\- "Hey there, my little fellow!" Percival exclaims, grabbing the lad under his armpits and lifting him into the air like a child.

Merlin struggles, outraged, flailing his long skinny legs in all directions.

\- "I'm _not_ your _little fellow_!" he squeals indignantly, failing to get out of the grasp of the giant who doesn't even flinch. "I'm _taller_ than the prince! Let me down, I can't protect him from up there!"

Gwaine and Lancelot roar with laughter but Arthur sulks - he hates to be reminded he's shorter than his manservant since the latter's sudden growth spurt. But Percival, very serious, puts Merlin on the ground with respect.

\- "Oh. I'm sorry", he apologizes sincerely. "I did not know you were his bodyguard."

The prince rolls his eyes.

_Seriously?_

He nudges Lancelot.

\- "So you missed Merlin so much you had to go get yourself a gigantic version of him?"

\- "Shut up, your Highness", simply retorts Lancelot.

\- "Thank you", Merlin groans at the giant, brushing his clothes. "Oversized Troll."

Percival's eyebrows bounce with humor despite his poker face.

\- "You're welcome, twig", he says.

Gwaine grins stupidly. He already had a taste of the cider.

Embers are crackling and night birds are calling softly in the forest. Gwaine took off his boots and they complained of the foul smell of his socks. There's no more cider or honey cookies, only crumbs on the blankets, and they are blissfully full.

The five of them are aligned on their backs, contemplating the myriad stars that seem falling to them in the dark vault.

\- "Looks like a well", Gwaine remark. "But in reverse."

\- "True", Percival nods after a while.

\- "We could try to cast a coin and make a wish", offers Lancelot in the darkness.

\- "Nutters", Arthur mutters.

A coin swirls over them, catching the last rays of the flames, then falls without a sound.

\- "Gaius said…you and I… we're like the two faces of a coin..." mumbles Merlin who is about to fall asleep.

Arthur frowns, but Lancelot crosses his hands behind his neck and smiles.

\- "Gaius is a wise old man."

The prince wonders what the physician meant - and why the hell he said such a thing in front of _Merlin_ who, everyone knows, is unable to keep his mouth shut.

_What ties on_ _a gold coin engraved with a cross on one face and a crown on the other a prince and his manservant?_

He swallows, trying to shoo away the strange uneasiness that churned inside of him when he watched the coin swirling, as if about to fall forever, to the sky or to the land, prey to a simple flick of fingers...

A burnt log collapses beside them and suddenly it's much darker, almost a little cold.

\- "Then, who's 'head' and who's 'tail'?" asks Percival, puzzled.

\- "I'd say Arthur's 'head', if I didn't know he has _a knack_ for the ladies", says Gwaine who rolls over to Percival's side to avoid Arthur kicking him with his knee.

\- "He has mouse teeth", says Merlin gravely.

Lancelot chuckles in the night and Arthur is both furious and strangely relieved at the laughter that flutters under his ribs.

\- " _Mer_ lin, exactly what bit of _secret_ do you _not_ understand?" he growls, dropping Gwaine and turning to his manservant.

\- "Everyone knows about it", replies the boy with a big grin, hooting and squirming as he gets a well-deserved knuckle-shampoo.

\- "Does the lady Elena think so?" asks Percival with such a placid timing it makes Gwaine neigh with laughter.

\- "All right we're off", says Arthur flatly.

Lancelot lifts himself on his elbow and reaches out to him above Merlin's head.

\- "Sire. Stay longer, please. The moon's barely up yet."

Arthur lies down in the middle of the messed-up blankets, grouching just to save the face, then ties his hands on his chest and plunges his eyes in the ocean of stars.

He feels so small.

_So at peace with these unceremoniously loyal men._

_And yet so out of place._

Was he not born to command, to lead an army, to lead a country? Is he not supposed to fulfill his destiny, to sit on the throne and protect the world, his people, the weakest?

_So why does he want to throw a bundle over his shoulder and wander off like Lancelot?_

_Why does he wish he could be a simple man, a commoner…?_

Since he learnt his father lied and betrayed his mother and destroyed their family, so many things have become different. As if he no longer belonged to the House of Pendragon, as if he were an insignificant pawn who had just opened his eyes.

Sometimes, the rage devouring his insides is so strong that it makes him want to hurt everybody, to give up everything, to face again Uther and defeat him, to finish what he started that day... and then he stops. It is his _father_ , though. He always wanted to prove he was worth the great image of the king, of his power and the fear he inspires, of his ability to maintain peace in such a large kingdom.

_He waited for years for a word, a sentence, a sign of affection or pride._

He grew up without knowing how to express what you feel, how you tell people you love them or that you see their valor.

Without understanding how important it was to be able to do so.

Because when he learned the truth, there was no more than the word "father" to prevent him from committing the irreparable. He did not kill the king, but he has not looked at him the same way after that.

The man on the throne is his ultimate quest.

His fate.

His last question.

_Is he the heir to Camelot or a prisoner?_

He no longer knows.

Since came Merlin with his heart on his sleeve, his blue eyes that express everything he thinks and feels, Arthur discovered that _Life_ is full of nuances, that it belongs to everyone, that he has the right to choose and yet that he _is_ the only one who can accomplish the task placed on his shoulders.

_If he runs away, who will protect Camelot?_

_Will he really be happy if he does so and stops caring about anything else but himself?_

_And if he stays and embraces his destiny, will he really be miserable?_

Maybe _living_ is made decisions that cost a lot but that you do not regret.

He sighs and glances distractedly to his side.

Merlin is curled up on the blanket, one arm under his cheek and his impossibly long legs folded against him. His white collarbone protrudes a little through the too wide neckline of his blue tunic. His dark eyelashes are resting on his cheeks. Mouth slightly opened, he sleeps soundly.

There is no more noise. The others must be sleeping too. The prince smiles and settles on his right side as usual, using his wrist as a pillow. He closes his eyes and five minutes later he's on his way to dreamland.

Lancelot waits until the rustling of blankets stops, then he sits up.

He leans gently, grabs his jacket lying next to the fire and carefully arranges it on the frail form of Merlin who unconsciously snuggles in the warmth.

Someone coughs softly and the young man looks up.

Gwaine is up too and he watches the sleeping heir to Camelot with a peculiar look. His eyes are glistening in the night.

\- "A strange pair", he whispers.

Lancelot smiles.

\- "None can compare."

Gwaine rubs his beard absent-mindedly.

\- "Will he really be king someday? I mean, he's ..."

\- "Here?" completes Lancelot in low voice. "With us, instead of being at the castle? Sharing his bread and enjoying the company of commoners? In love with a maid and about to reject a princess?"

Gwaine opens his mouth, then closes it.

\- "I was just going to say ... prattish and reckless", he says awkwardly. "What do you mean with "in love with a maid?"

Lancelot smiles oddly.

\- "Arthur ... One day ... one day you'll be a great king ... everyone will love you and you will be fair and esteemed ..."

Gwaine and Lancelot have leaned forward in the same movement.

Merlin's lids have fluttered open, still heavy with slumber, and he's looking at Arthur's sleeping face. The prince is snoring quietly. The angular features of the manservant are donned with kindness and faith.

\- "One day, Arthur ... soon ... you will be fine ... I'll protect you ... you're not alone…"

Merlin closes his eyes and nestles a little more under the jacket. His mop of dark curls almost mingles with the blonde hair of the prince.

Gwaine snorts fondly.

\- "Merlin knows his way, at least."

Lancelot shakes his head.

\- "No", he says gently. "He goes where Arthur decides to go and when the prince is lost, Merlin reminds him what path he chose. With his help Arthur _will_ be a great king, Gwaine. A king whose name no one will forget."

* * *

_**TBC** _


	5. FLAMES, FRIENDS & FOES

It's pouring and rivulets are trickling on the window in front of Arthur who is watching them darkly, his arms crossed, his shoulder leaning against the cold stone wall.

He is in a foul mood and the whole castle knows about it. He has blazed his anger at the stable boy, left the knights and squires soaked in sweat and aching after hellish drills, returned his meal to the kitchen after spilling the wine jug into his plate and pretending the lamb thigh was undercooked, thrown all his dirty clothes at Merlin's head, broken almost everything that could be.

And now he is alone in the silent and devastated room as the day darkens.

It is _not enough_ probably that the wedding is the end of the month and that there is absolutely _nothing_ he can do to prevent it. No, it _had_ to get worse.

His father's gout is acting up and the king's mood is even worse than his son's when he suffers from his foot. He would believe anything, as long as it distracts him from the pain.

But this time, he crossed the line.

In the courtyard, servants are removing the blackened remains of the pyre under the pouring rain. Morgana must be sleeping now, exhausted by all her yelling and begging. Arthur has never seen her in such a state. He had not even suspected how much she had buried her resentment towards their father ...

He wonders if she went through the same doubts as he did, if she also wished to flee the kingdom and deny her name.

_ Surely. _

He thought she was stronger than him - and probably she _was_ , considering she managed to smile to Uther despite the truth she knew. But tonight, his sister is lying in bed, broken by grief and bitterness.

And the migraine throbbing under Arthur's temples is making him nauseous.

He can understand his father's wrath, the need to make an example, but... was this _really_ necessary? The woman had served them a long time, she was old and she asked for forgiveness on her knees in the great hall, her gray eyes full of tears as she looked at Morgana.

But Lord Aredian, the man who is now the new king's counselor, did not blink when he sentenced her to death.

Morgana's nanny, accused of witchcraft, was burnt in the courtyard. They had discovered books of magic and strange twisted brown roots in her room and she confessed under torture having practiced enchantments.

Arthur continues to be disturbed by a tingling at the back of his skull: she said she was only trying to relieve her mistress from her nightmares with some medicinal herbs...

_ Was it so wrong? _

He bites his lips, his eyebrows so furrowed they painfully crease his forehead.

Lord Aredian is... _weird_. His laughter is that of a man who doesn't have all his mind and his honeyed words get on the nerves of the prince. He feels highly ill-at-ease under the vicious gaze of the bleached blonde man and does not trust his pale eyes.

Arthur rubs his chin and stands up, noticing his shoulder is numb and cold after this long stationary station.

Maybe things will settle themselves when the good weather will return...

The tocsin suddenly shakes the castle and Arthur sighs.

\- "What, now?" he grumbles as he walks toward the great hall.

His mood does not improve when he learns it is Lord Aredian who summoned everyone there. 

Apparently, he discovered yet another sorcerer within the walls of Camelot.

\- "And I'm sorry to tell you that he is with us at the moment", dramatically announces the man, his blotchy skin going all pink and his pissy-colored eyebrows arching.

Arthur holds his urge to vomit in front the unhealthy glee of the advisor.

Some people really are just malicious and sordid, even when they simply fill out their duties.

Aredian turns on his heels in a rattling of trinkets - he wears a grotesque number of necklaces - and points his leather glove in the direction of the crowd.

\- "It's that boy... Merlin."

Uther's eyes widen in disbelief, and Arthur almost chokes. For the first time in days, a smirk makes its way across his face.

\- " _Merlin_?" he repeats.

Even Gwaine's dumb jests are more credible.

But it is not a joke and it quickly becomes a painfully very _real_ nightmare. Merlin is thrown into a cell and Arthur finds himself having to search the court physician's chambers. Stoneware pots are crashed, powders and dry herbs treated with no care, parchments are flying in the air, the precious books are brutally thrown to the ground and the potions that were boiling quietly spilled to the floor. And suddenly, to the prince's dismay, they find a magic artifact in a jar. Petrified in the middle of the havoc, Gaius glares at a strangely amused Aredian.

\- "I know for a fact this does not belong to Merlin", avers the old man defiantly.

_ You bet _ , Arthur thinks. He really does not understand how they got there and has a growing headache.

\- "Really? And why, pray?" inquires Lord Aredian suavely.

\- "Because ... because it is _mine_ ", Gaius replies, straightening his tired shoulders with determination.

Arthur wants to shout that _this_ is the stupidest thing he has ever heard and that it won't fix anything, but Lord Aredian seems to be delighted, as if that was what he wanted to hear from the beginning.

There really _is_ something unsettling in the way he looks at Gaius, an inexplicable hatred that gleams through the icy politeness of his words.

Arthur puts that aside for now and angrily goes down to the dungeons while his father receives the advisor. _Surely_ Uther will do something. It was one thing to let condemn a clumsy and foolish servant, but the king is not mad. He will give a fair trial to the old physician who has served him for over twenty-five years.

The guard unlocks the gate and the light of the torch illuminates the cell. Merlin is sitting on the ground, curled up against the dirty wall and when he lifts his terrified blue eyes bright with unshed tears, Arthur softens up.

- "You're free", he says as nicely as he can.

Merlin hardly looks at him and rushes out ... to come across the two guards who are bringing in Gaius.

- "Arthur? What's happening?"

The pitching voice of the manservant tears the prince's ribs like a dagger.

He swallows hard.

- "Everything will be fine, _Mer_ lin. Don't worry, this mess will quickly be solved."

_ Oh, _ _ he lies so easily. _

_ As if trying _ _ to convince himself that all of this is not really happening. _

_ What kind of _ _ kingdom betrays his most faithful servants? _

Arthur requires an explanation, but his father answers dryly. Gaius will be subjected to questioning and everything will come to light. There is no reason to fret.

Downpours continue to hit Camelot and moisture invades every corner, slipping in their joints like a squeaky pain that even the large fires lit in all rooms are unable to shoo away.

Arthur has a toothache and is slouched in his armchair, frowning, his blue eyes staring hard at the flames in the fireplace, his chin resting in his hand and his blonde hair tousled.

_ Is there  _ nothing _he can do?_

He went back to the dungeons last night after hearing Lord Aredian's report to Uther. He saw Gaius and his stomach churned with indignation. The old man has suffered so much. He was collapsed on the straw in his cell, his clothes in rags stained with blood and sweat, his face marbled by purple wrinkles, his eyes puffy, his lips chapped, his tangled white hair sticking to his injuries. The bruise on his forehead was strangely harder to look at than his broken fingers.

\- "Gaius ..."

He did not know what to say.

_ "Why did you do that? _

_ Did you not know that witchcraft was forbidden? _

_ Defend yourself, for heaven's sake!" _

He went back to his chambers deep in thought and did not realize Guinevere had followed him.

\- "Your Highness?"

He turned round, surprised to hear the sweet voice filled with worries behind him.

\- "You wanted to talk to me, Guinevere?"

The young woman drew a deep breath, her hands clenched on her apron. Her curly hair fell in cascades on her purple dress and a few dark wisps brushed the delicate chestnut curves of her beautiful face.

\- "Sire. Gaius can not be guilty. He ... he would never do such a thing. There must be an explanation."

\- "I know", simply said Arthur, looking away from the almond shaped eyes looking at him like if he could put an end at this terrible mess. "But we can't do anything because of this stupid supposedly magical bracelet. We must wait for the outcome of his questioning. Gaius should never have kept something so dangerous in his chambers..."

Guinevere bit her lips and took a step forward.

\- "You know torture will eventually break him", she insisted. "He's old, like ... like Alice."

Her voice choked and Arthur remembered Morgana's nanny had been like a mother to the young orphan maid.

\- "He'll confess to anything and it'll be too late!"

He eventually sent her out, gently but firmly.

Guinevere's words echo in his mind the next day when two guards drag the court physician in the big room and throw him at the king's feet.

_ "I thought you were different! I believed you had the heart of a great king ... I was wrong ... does your code of chivalry have so little importance? I thought you cared for justice and that you had sworn to protect the weak and the innocent!" _

She was quivering with anger and fear at her own audacity when she left his chambers, but she kept her chin raised and now, her dark eyes are blazing at Arthur from the crowd.

\- "He confessed, Your Majesty", says Lord Aredian with a predatory smile, pulling on the hair of the old physician to make him look up.

Gaius moans and there is not one person in the audience who does not feel their heart sink - because there is no one here who has not once been treated by the compassionate man.

\- "... I am guilty ... Sire ... I alone… am guilty ..."

Arthur finds it strangely put, but he does not have time to ponder over it because his eyes fall on Merlin.

His manservant seems about to faint.

_ Oh no. _

The king stands contritely.

\- "Gaius will be executed tomorrow at dawn", he announces darkly. "I condemn him to the pyre, as it is the fate that awaits anyone who practices witchcraft."

The old man closes his eyes and is being taken out of the room under Lord Aredian's satisfied gaze, when a sudden movement splits open the crowd. Arthur does not pause for a second and rushes to Merlin before the idiot gets himself into trouble. He grabs the struggling lanky boy, suffocates under his glove the words that would get him killed and hastens to take his hysterical manservant out of sight of Uther and his advisor.

Merlin kicks, bites the thick leather glove, sticks his elbow into the prince's nose, but his master does not slow down and drags him down to the dungeons.

\- "I know you're upset. I know you're angry. It's alright. I'm not throwing you in jail", he grinds, twisting Merlin's thin wrist when the boy takes a swing at him.

\- "Then what are you doing?" gasps the manservant, clearly out of his wits.

\- "I'm breaking the law", replies Arthur, determined, heading towards Gaius' cell.

Once the gate is unlocked, Merlin rushes inside and hugs the old physician who writhes in pain but closes his arms on the back of his shuddering ward.

\- "They wouldn't let me see you", sobs the boy, snuggling his face streaming with tears against the shoulder of his mentor.

Arthur purses his lips.

_ Has Merlin spent the last two days down there, near the entrance of the dungeons? _

_ If the guards prevented him from coming in, he must have heard everything that was going on ... without being able to see or to stop what they were doing to the old man… _

The prince feels a shiver running down his spine.

He should have known better and go look for Merlin instead of deducting stupidly that he was hiding in a corner of Gaius' chambers after the physician was taken away.

Gaius , obviously, has come to the same conclusions as Arthur, since he casts a reproachful look at the prince while stroking Merlin's black curls and whispering words of comfort.

The prince contemplates the quivering fingers of the old man and wonders _who_ bothered to properly bandage them.

_ Someone _ _ managed to slip through the guards and provided some care to the prisoner. _

_ Someone _ _ who must believe in Gaius' innocence or know something. _

The guard who opened the cell for the prince clears his throat.

- " _He_ will be back soon", he mutters uncomfortably.

Arthur nods.

- "Thank you", he says briefly, before leaning in and gently loosening Merlin's grip on his mentor.

- "Come on, now. We need to go..."

The boy obeys , obviously frazzled and exhausted. Arthur is beginning to wonder if his manservant has _even_ eaten or slept since Gaius was arrested.

The old man looks up and meets the prince's gaze.

\- "Please take care of him, Sire", he whispers, his voice hoarse from screaming under the torture.

Arthur's throat tightens.

He just nods and leads a dazed Merlin out of the cell, half carrying him.

When the gate drops close behind them, he feels very cold and is relieved to have something to do, because everything suddenly seems so grim that he might go mad. He takes Merlin to his chambers - he does not know where else he could leave him - and sits him by the fire.

\- "Stay put, okay?" He orders gruffly. "Don't go mindlessly wandering in the corridors and drawing yourself into more troubles, got it?"

The cobalt orbs look at him with despair. Tears are hanging on the dark eyelashes and sparkling in the glow of the flames.

\- "Arthur, please…" begs Merlin in a very low voice. "Please, don't let him die ... Arthur ... _please_ … "

The prince bites his lip to blood.

He would give anything to be elsewhere, to rather confront a monstrous creature or an army, to have Lancelot and Gwaine at his side and let them take care of this frail figure that will eventually break if this keeps going.

_ But Merlin is  _ his _manservant._ His _responsibility._

_ And Gaius is not only one of his people, but also a man who was there for the prince all his life. _

He can not just ignore what is happening and blame his father or the system or ...

He grits his teeth and crouches in front of the armchair, pats Merlin's skinny knee.

\- "Stay here", he repeats sternly. "I'll be back soon."

His chin trembling, the boy nods.

_ Gods, his ears look so pathetic in the firelight ... _

Arthur stands up and leaves the room, locking it. He rushes down the stairs and back to the dungeons only to be stopped by the two soldiers guarding the entrance.

\- "Lord Aredian forbids anyone to see the prisoner."

\- "I am the prince", Arthur retorts haughtily.

The men squirm in embarrassment, but do not give in. The young man, outraged, is about to create a scandal when Sir Leon appears down the stairs, hiding a small bundle under his cloak.

He jumps when he sees Arthur and the prince suddenly understands who's the mysterious person who treated the old man's fingers. He leads the knight away from eavesdroppers and demands explanations.

Sir Leon mumbles at first, then his voice becomes stronger and his eyes are blazing with anger when he explains why the situation seems unfair and wrong to him. Guinevere came to him when Arthur refused to help and convinced the so serious knight that something was off in this series of events.

\- "Lord Aredian and Gaius know each other from twenty years ago", he whispers. "I was able to hear them at some point, and if we could only convince Gaius to speak out, everything would fall into place, I'm sure."

- "Still we'd have the problem of the damn bracelet", corrects Arthur, frowning.

- "I think this would solve itself if we searched the adviser's chambers", groans the knight mysteriously. "But Sire, the most important thing is for the king to hear the truth. Gaius has sinned, but His Majesty will forgive him, I'm sure."

\- "What do you mean?"

Sir Leon hesitates, then seems to understand he will not get the prince's support if the latter does not have all keys in hand.

- "Gaius left Lord Aredian's son be accused of a crime of high treason, twenty years ago. While it was _his own_ _ son_ who was guilty. The young man was executed under his father's eyes."

Arthur's eyes widen.

- "Gaius was _married_?"

The knight makes a face.

- "Well… not really _married_ … if I got this right", he answers reluctantly.

Arthur rubs his chin, trying to sort out his confused thoughts.

- "What happened to Gaius' son?"

- "I don't know", says Sir Leon. "I am under the impression he was not a very recommendable man. Apparently, he was banned afterwards for another crime."

- "And you say Lord Aredian trapped Gaius to get revenge? Why after all these years?"

- "Maybe he just discovered the truth recently", shrugs the knight. "Sire, if we want to save the court physician, you need to speak to the king _tonight_."

The prince nibbles his thumbnail as he paces, focused.

- "We can't save him without solid evidence. And it will be the word of Lord Aredian against Gaius'... My father will never accept any of his advisors to be this humiliated."

- "Sire!"

Sir Leon's urgent voice makes him look up and Arthur steps back, flustered, when he sees the same hope he found in Guinevere's and Merlin's eyes in the knight's stare.

\- " _You_ are the only one who can overturn the tide. The king gives value to what you say, even if it seems to be the opposite. If you were just ... _calm_ and poised when you opposed him, you'd see that he would not flare up and would actually listen to you."

Arthur leaves the room feeling uneasy, restless and convinced he is a fool to believe that Uther will give any importance to his words _simply_ because the prince will not be screaming or trying to provoke him to make him see reason.

Oddly, it reminds him of something Lancelot often tells him.

_ "Your hot temper will be your loss, your Highness. Learn to think before jumping into action and stop thinking that speaking louder will make people believe you more. Dignity of a king, Arthur, is to show authority even in silence." _

He draws in a deep breath before knocking on the door of his father's chambers.

He'd rather charge forward with a sword like Gwaine does, but he will give a try to this self-collected confrontation for once. If it is all it takes to save the old physician and bring him back to Merlin, and to stop Guinevere from looking at him with such disappointment, then he _will_ do it, whatever the cost.

The next day, rain is still pouring, splashing on the courtyard cobblestones, drenching the bales piled on the stake and dripping like tears on the window, but Arthur feels more at peace that he has been for centuries.

_ Okay _ _ days. _

It is over .

Uther has objected to all his urgings, but he seemed pleased enough by the respectful attitude of his son to agree to postpone the execution and review the facts. Sir Leon has produced a witness who admitted to having sold to Lord Aredian the infamous artefact of sorcery and when the king asked Gaius, the man confirmed the story of revenge - after hesitating long enough for Arthur's shirt to be quenched in sweat.

Then Lord Aredian lost it and created such chaos that he brought judgment over his own head.

The King forbid him to appear again before the court, since he could not decently banish him while he clearly had decided to keep Gaius near him despite whatever exactly had happened twenty years before.

Uther is probably much more fond of the old physician that he shows.

In the end, all is well , though Merlin seems still traumatized and has already caused a dozen disasters since this morning.

Gwaine , Lancelot and Percival will certainly be back soon to Camelot \- it must be the torrents of rain and the floods they cause on the roads that prevent them from being back from their quest.

_ What _ _ has Lancelot said already? Trident of the Fisher King. Yes, sure. Count on Lancelot to launch himself onto such ridiculous quests ... _

When they are here, Arthur hopes to go hunting for three days and make the most of their carefree time together, while ensuring that Merlin resumes to some colors. He misses the cheeky chatter and light banter with his manservant more than he would ever admit it.

He meets Guinevere in a hallway and smiles at her, whistling merrily.

She hesitates, bites her lips as she stares down at the basket of laundry she's carrying, then looks up and greets him briefly before going on her way.

Arthur spends about fifteen minutes standing in the middle of the hallway with rosy cheeks and a smug look on his face.

She smiled at him ... and she seemed _proud_ of him.

_ This is definitely the best day of his life. _

He glides up to his room where he stumbles upon a dirty water bucket. Merlin is currently washing the floor with a brush, kneeling in a puddle of soap.

Arthur teases him, inquires about the health of the old physician who is still in bed, then jumps on his bed _with his boots_ , deliberately ignoring his manservant's disapproving 'tsk', crosses his arms under his neck and fully dedicates himself to the blue dreams swirling around him like drugged butterflies.

Everything is perfect, everything is beautiful, everything is fine.

Until the alarm bell starts to ring again.

Arthur is looking for someone to strangle upon entering the great hall - someone _else_ than the manservant trotting behind him with his ears bristling like a rabbit caught in a clearing - but he quickly regains his composure upon discovering the bodies aligned on the tiled floor, wrapped in white sheets.

- "... and there are dozens of others", concludes Sir Leon standing in his long red cloak stained with mud. "Two villages were almost decimated and there are already five cases in the lower town. Your Majesty, this is an epidemic."

* * *

**_ TBC _ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written years ago and based off the BBC series.  
> It has nothing to do with the recent events in the world.


	6. FATHERS AND SONS ALIKE

When Sir Leon stopped talking, a stunned silence filled the great hall. Uther took a deep breath and turned mechanically to his left.

\- "Gaius, what do you think?"

But Gaius was not there, of course, because he can't even get up.

And _this_ is where the problem lies.

No one has fallen ill in the castle yet, but half of the lower town is condemned by barricades and they never stop to burn corpses. Black and oily smoke rises above the thatched roofs and mingle with the rain that keeps pouring on Camelot. Moldy straw carts carry the dying patients who vomit blood and white mash that smells of death. Crows have gathered on the bell tower and croak, sardonic, their dark feathers glistening with water.

Arthur looks at the city through his window with his fists clenched. His people are dying and there is nothing he can do to prevent it. He feels so sorry for them, almost aching like if they were... his _children_.

_Ahem. What a strange idea. He has no offspring and does not intend to have any before ... well, years. When he is king or later. Anyways. Is he going mad or what?_

_Maybe Merlin is rubbing off on him a little too much._

His manservant has been bustling restlessly since the beginning of the epidemic, doing his chores in a hurry to be back as soon as possible to help his mentor.

Gaius is still lying on his cot, too weak to get up and examine patients, and his bruised fingers are still too sore to crush herbs or concoct potions. He consults his books, desperately pondering. Guinevere shares her time between her service to Morgana and the old man's chambers, tirelessly.

Merlin keeps running back and forth between the lower town and the castle, soaked like a hedgehog, his black hair plastered on his face. He brings back information, all he can observe without getting too close to the sick villagers.

Sir Leon has entered the quarantine zone and does not have the right to leave it now, of course. He hung up his long red cloak on a nail and has put on an apron, regardless of appearances. His blond curls hidden under a dirty cloth, he organizes the sick in the tavern, leads the evacuation of the dead, reassures and encourages the people, never losing his dignified and courageous guise.

Uther Pendragon has not slept for three days. With bloodshot eyes, he paces in the throne room growling like a cornered wolf.

He _will_ overcome the plague, in one way or another.

_There must be a solution._

Out of patience, he goes back again to the court physician's chambers, storming in and throwing the wooden door against the wall.

\- "GAIUS!"

Guinevere jumps and drops to the ground the wet cloth she was pressing on the old man's forehead.

\- "Your Majesty ... I ... he ..."

His eyes blazing and his jaw clenched, the king orders her to get out with a chin gesture. Then he comes to the bed, pushing aside annoyingly the onions and the dry hawthorn hanging from the old timber beams.

\- "Gaius, tell me you _found_ a cure."

The old man turns his head on his pillow. His features are drawn with fatigue.

\- "I'm sorry I have not yet been able to do so, Sire", he says softly.

Uther drops on the stool next to him, grinding his teeth.

\- "One of the maids has fallen ill", he hisses. "People of the castle will soon be affected too. Gaius ... we _need_ to find as a cure. If ... if Arthur and Morgana were to ... ... I could not stand it..."

The old man looks at him with compassion and sadness.

\- "We are doing our best, Sire, I promise. Merlin and Sir Leon made a list of similarities between the victims and of what symptoms they show. I could not have been more informed by examining the sick myself."

\- "So what is it, then?" asks the King, his voice hoarse with anger and helplessness. "Is it the Black Death, Gaius? Are we all doomed?"

The physician shakes his head.

\- "I believe we can heal the victims", he says. "But even if I _could_ get up and look for the herbs I'm missing, or go test and adjust the potion, I do not think I would succeed. Your Majesty, these are the limits of my science and my poor body. Time is running out if the plague is already at the gates of the castle. We need a man of greater knowledge than I. Someone who has already defeated a pestilence like this... we need _him_ , Sire."

Uther looks away and snorts. He runs his leather gloves on his face, pushing the crown that encircles his forehead like a migraine.

\- "Gaius, I can not do that. I forgave your silence twenty years ago, but I can not lift the ban."

\- "But we have no other choice, Sire! No one is more capable than he. I've heard rumors, recently. His art has improved. He _will_ find a cure. Listen to me, Sire, I beg of you ... We _need_ him to save Camelot."

The king gets up and paces into the room, playing with the big ring around his finger, his eyes staring at his boots. The rain drums continuously behind the window and, inside, the candles are casting shadows on the walls. There are books piled on the steps of the wooden staircase leading to the library mezzanine and a loose cloak thrown on the ramp.

\- "Even if I was to send someone to fetch him... would he agree to return to Camelot?"

\- "He will not let innocent people die", assures the physician.

\- "His ideas, Gaius, they are so dangerous ... how could I risk it poison the minds of the court again? I have not banned him for nothing. And how will _you_ face him? You were the one who reported him to the law..."

The old man shuts his eyes for a moment. When he reopens them, Uther is glaring at him with concern under his irritated and uncomfortable look.

\- "Your Majesty", Gaius says, quietly resolved despite the unspeakable sadness wrinkling his bushy white eyebrows. "My son and I are of no importance. What matters is saving Camelot."

Uther massages his face, a hand on his hip, throwing back the folds of his dark cloak beaded with rain.

\- "Very well", he says after drawing another deep breath. "Very well."

He leaves the room, followed by the tired gaze of the old man, passes on the doorstep Merlin who's coming in, hooded by his rain-soaked brown cloak. The servant greets the king, then rushes to his mentor, stumbling against the baskets placed near the entrance.

\- "What was it the king wanted? Is _Arthur_ sick?" he exclaims, his big blue eyes concerned. "Was he not happy with you? Has he hurt you?"

Gaius shakes his head and smiles.

\- "Arthur is _fine_ , Merlin. And the king merely wanted to talk to me. Sit by the fire and take off these wet clothes, you're shivering so much your jaw's going to get loose. Did you eat anything today?"

The boy takes off his cloak and lets his tunic slip to the ground before hopping in search of a dry blanket, pressing his arms around his scrawny torso, his teeth chattering. His ears are bright red, his hair is dripping, and ice droplets run down his pale bony spine.

He finds his other shirt - Guinevere has suspended it on a hemp rope near the fireplace and the rough fabric is pleasantly hot - and puts it on with a sigh of relief before coming to sit on the stool next to the bed.

\- "Sir Leon's doing fine", he tells, taking in his palms the old wrinkled hand. "He tried to filter the water like you said and it seems to help the sick. Nobody died yesterday, there's only ol' Marie from the tannery who's condition has not improved."

\- "Good", says Gaius, contemplating the angular features of his ward with affection. "You worked hard and you must be exhausted. You should get some sleep."

He reaches out to gently pinch the boy's nose. Merlin snuggles his cheek in the hand caressing his face.

\- "I still have tons of strength, Gaius", he says, not managing to hide a yawn. "I'll go to the kitchen to get some soup. You need to eat plenty to soon be able to get up and heal the people of Camelot."

His blue eyes are smiling, trusting.

Gaius can save them.

oOoOoOo

\- "Gaius can't save us", the king announces upon entering his son's chambers without bothering to knock. "Everything depends on you, now."

Arthur gasped when he heard the door, but he frowns, now.

\- "What do you mean, Father?"

Uther Pendragon lays his hand on his shoulder.

\- "There's a man whose science can overcome this pestilence. You will take one or two men with you and go fetch him. He lives in Feyora, in the kingdom of Cenred."

The young man listens with surprise to the king's grave voice.

\- "We're at peace with Cenred, but our diplomatic relations with them are fragile. He waits only for a misstep to declare war. You must absolutely not be recognized. You will bring the man back here, and when he will have concocted his remedy, you'll ride with him beyond the White Mountains and make sure he leaves the country. The whole time he's here, you will be responsible for ensuring that he does not interact with anyone other than Gaius."

Arthur clears his throat.

\- "I'm not sure I understand. Who is this man, Father? Why so many precautions?"

The king snorts angrily, like if he had no intention at all to explain, then softens up. He comes closer to the fireplace and put his foot against the hearth, leaning his elbow on the blackened beam embedded in the stone.

His eyes on the flames, he speaks slowly.

\- "The man's name is Balinor. He is the last survivor of a secret society called _the Dragonlords_ , which extols the people's right to give their _opinion_ about the government. If we had not put an end to it twenty years ago, these people would eventually have stirred up the peasants and brought anarchy upon the kingdom.

Arthur's eyes widen, stunned and horrified.

\- "Balinor was a member of the court, an outstanding physician whose talents went far beyond those of anyone in the five kingdoms. I banished him out of respect for Gaius, but if he was to cross the border, he would be executed immediately."

\- "Out of respect ... for Gaius?" repeats the young man hesitantly.

The king sighs. The tip of his boot taps against the molded jambs of the fireplace.

\- "Balinor is his son", he says finally. "Now get ready to go, Arthur. Time is short."

oOoOoOo

Gusts of rain force them to progress slowly, squinting to see, bent over the necks of the horses who struggle on the road strewn with muddy ruts. It's cold, their cloaks are soaked and heavy, and night will soon fall.

\- "We should stop!" Merlin shouts behind him, but Arthur does not turn his head to answer.

\- "No, we can still go on for a league or two!" he replies stubbornly.

His blond hair falls into his eyes, his hands tremble on the reins, his mail coat weighs a ton, but he can not bring himself to dismount and sit in front of his servant by the fire.

Gaius's words go round and round in his head, endlessly.

_\- "Arthur. Before you leave, there is something you should know ..."_

_He wanted to protest, to tell the old man he already knew his secret, but the court physician shook his head and forced him to sit by the bed. He grabbed the young man's arm, squeezed it so hard it was almost hurting._

_\- "Merlin will soon be back with your bags, so listen to me, Sire. No one else knows this, not even your father. The man you are going to fetch... Balinor ... he is Merlin's father."_

_\- "WHAT?"_

_\- "I didn't know, Arthur. I first heard about it when I received Hunith's letter. She said that he had left her many years ago, before the child was even born, that he had told her he had family in Camelot and that she could turn to me if she needed help some day. And the poor woman waited to be on the verge of dying to tell me I had a grand-son and to allow me to meet him ..."_

What is Arthur supposed to do with such a secret?

He wants to scream that Gaius and his father should deal with their own messes, rather than force him to interfere.

He snorts, wipes the rain trickling down his face and presses his heels into the flanks of his horse. Mud breaks under the hooves of the exhausted animal and the two riders dive into the falling night.

When they cross the border, it is already dark and they stop at an inn on the side of the road a few hours later.

They entrust their horses to a stable boy dotted with freckles, who's dozing on his hay fork at the back of the house. When they step in the common room, happy to finally be someplace dry and warm, Arthur greets loudly the customers who look even less sympathetic then the people in the tavern where they met Gwaine last year. The prince tries to get information from the tenant, but the man ignores the fat pouch on the counter and simply grunts something inaudible.

The room is pretty much clean and there are not too many fleas in the bedding. Arthur takes right away the bed opposite to the door and removes his wet clothes that Merlin takes downstairs to put to dry by the fireplace in the main room, before coming back to the bedroom to change as well ... and all this without saying a word.

Intrigued, Arthur watches him for a moment while picking out what could be a chip of calf stuck in between his teeth.

\- "What's wrong with you today?" he finally asks.

Merlin sticks his head out of his dark blue shirt, then shrugs and dives under his blanket.

\- "Nothing", he replies laconically.

Arthur arches his eybrow wryly.

\- "Merlin, there are lots of people who can to the work of a domestic. So few are capable of chatting _hours_ when asked to shut up. And you know what? That's the only thing keeping me from firing you. There may come a day when I would need to win the contest of the most prolix manservant."

\- "Pff. You don't even know what 'prolix' means."

\- "Oh I know", Arthur chuckles. "But you don't."

He cocks his head to the side, still sitting on the edge of his bed.

\- "Come on, tell me. What is it? Are you missing Gaius?"

Merlin does not need to hear things like "If I was not a prince, we could be friends" to tell what weights on his heart. Since Day One, he has always acted as if Arthur was _always_ available, _always_ ready to listen, _always_ interested in his incessant chatter.

So if Merlin is silent now, it means there really _is_ something wrong.

\- "Hum."

The boy has turned to the wall and the prince throws a pillow at him to get back his attention.

\- " _Mer_ lin."

\- " _What_?" growls his servant.

Arthur frowns.

\- "You haven't caught a cold, have you? I'm not dragging along a servant who sneezes and sputters like a baby full of snot."

Merlin frankly turns to his side and his dark blue eyes blaze furiously.

\- "Do you ever shut up?"

Arthur is so shocked he almost chokes.

\- "Oh well", he finally stammers, rolling his eyes. "If it's like this ..."

He blows out the candle on the small table between them, thrusts his legs on the narrow mattress and gets under his own blanket, turning his back on his servant.

He doesn't have to wait very long.

\- "I'm sorry", Merlin whispers a hushed voice.

Arthur does not answer, but he smiles to himself before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

Not for long, though, because a suspicious – and not very quiet – thug sneaks into their room a little after midnight, with the clear intention of stealing the pouch filled with silver coins Arthur made a show of earlier in the evening. The prince is alert as soon as the latch rattles on and he gets the man under his sword. After some threats - and some sniveling answers - he has the information he wanted: Balinor lives in a shack on the other side of the forest.

Dawn is barely born when they leave, and the saddles have not really dried overnight. Merlin squirms on his, and Arthur rolls his eyes because there are more important things than mild discomfort.

_For example, the fact they must convince a man who was banished by Uther to come back to Camelot, to save the kingdom that destroyed all of his people._

_And the fact this man is the son of Gaius._

_And incidentally also Merlin's father._

The cottage of the former dragonlord is rather shabby. The prince wonders how a bloke with such knowledge, who was once famous in Camelot's court, can now live in such a place.

_Maybe he's gone barmy._

Merlin is so close behind Arthur he steps on his heels and bumps his nose against the skull of the prince who stops, exasperated.

\- "Go around the house, will you. Perhaps he's not here..."

A small strangled cry and a quick movement behind him make him stop in his tracks.

\- "Oh, he's here and he wonders what fool comes knocking at this damned door."

The deep voice is accompanied by the familiar tickling of a sword tip resting on his throat.

Arthur turns his head cautiously and raises his hands in sign of peace.

\- "We mean you no harm", he says slowly. "We are looking for a man named Balinor."

\- "Why?"

The prince swallows hard. From the corner of his eye, he sees the dark leather sleeve that strangles the neck of his manservant.

\- "We need help. Camelot… Camelot is in danger."

A long silence follows, then the man lets go of Merlin who starts coughing, and he opens the door, still threatening Arthur with his sword.

In the dark shabby cottage where reigns the same scent of sage and fennel than in Gaius' chambers, the prince explains the reason for their coming, just keeping to himself to the two secrets he learned just before leaving. He assures the man no harm will be done to him and that he will be able to walk away free in exchange for the remedy that will cure the people of Camelot.

Arthur throws all his heart in his argumentation, but it does not seem to be _enough_.

The man refuses categorically.

He is obviously offended that they even dare ask for his help.

\- "You've got the willies, innit?" Merlin says suddenly, in the frustrated silence that has followed the last attempt of the prince.

Balinor tilts his head to the side - a gesture that frighteningly reminds Arthur of someone else. He crosses his arms over his dark leather jacket and points at the lad with his chin.

\- "Who's that?"

\- "No one. My manservant", says the young man a little too hastily.

Two cobalt orbs stare at him wrathfully.

\- "I'm not _no-one_. I'm Merlin", says the boy with big ears, looking up defiantly.

Balinor arches an eyebrow and scratches his thick black beard.

\- "Your _manservant_ ", he repeats.

Arthur blushes.

 _Is it really so_ strange _that the heir to Camelot has as for trusted servant - single bodyguard - a big lanky kid who is obviously an_ idiot _?_

Balinor mumbles something they do not understand and leaves them in the house for the rest of the day. When he comes back, he does not look too surprised to see they're still here, but he offers them nothing to eat or drink. Arthur's stomach grumbles. Merlin is perched on a stool and watches the man with an intense gaze. His cheekbones are a little flushed and he has hardly spoken since this morning. Arthur is beginning to fear there is something seriously wrong with him.

He just hopes - _he desperately begs the gods deep inside_ \- that Merlin has no coming down with the sickness that affects Camelot.

\- "Do you plan on spending the night here?" Balinor asks, somewhat sarcastically.

\- "We will not leave without you", Arthur retorts, glaring at him. "Hundreds of lives depend on the success of our quest. I will do _everything_ I can to convince you to come with us. I will not let my people die if there is the _slimmest_ hope for a cure somewhere the depths of the five kingdoms."

The man looks at him thoroughly for a moment, then he begins whistling, getting herbs from his cupboards and pounding them in a bowl. He adds water and a powder that comes out of a bag hidden in his belt and eventually empties the liquid into a copper goblet that he puts in front of the prince.

\- " _Everything_?"

\- "Everything", replies Arthur, hiding a shudder.

Balinor nods.

\- "In this goblet, there's a lethal poison, that kills _very_ slowly. You don't think you're sick, then you start having the slightest headache, then it grows worse until one day you die, spiting out your lungs. I don't care who it is, but one of you must drink it. I'll give you the antidote when I'm out of Camelot's reach again."

\- "You don't have to do that", growls Arthur, outraged, while Merlin stares at the man with a strange gaze of betrayal misted with surprise.

\- "I need a guarantee."

\- "I gave you _my word_ ", scowls the prince.

\- "The word of a king doesn't mean anything to me and neither does the word of a peasant. Men are gullible and versatile creatures. They can't keep up with their promises."

Arthur bites the inside of his cheek.

He is livid with irate, but he knows he has no choice. He takes a deep breath and jumps when the stool on which was sitting Merlin falls abruptly to the ground.

\- "You're not going to drink it, are you?" cries the young servant, alarmed.

He rushes to the table.

\- "I'll do it, Arthur. Let me do it."

At that precise moment, Arthur hates so much the former dragonlord that he could kill him on the spot. He strongly pushes away Merlin without listening to his protests and picks up the goblet. He empties it and slams it back on the table.

He wipes his mouth with his sleeve in the silence where can only be heard the strangled moan of his manservant and his eyes blaze at Balinor.

\- "All right, done. Satisfied? Are we on our way, now?"

The man looks at him impassively, then nods again.

\- "Let's go."

Outside, the rain has stopped.

They barely have time to ride to the border of Cenred's kingdom before darkness falls. Arthur breathes more freely once they are in allied woods and looks for a place to spend the night.

They light a fire and Merlin lays blankets on the carpet of dead leaves before coming to sit cross-legged in front of the tree log, on which the man is sat down to skin the rabbit that will be their dinner. The prince drinks with big gulps what is left in his water skin, then goes to fill it at the stream that runs a few feet further into the woods, while keeping his sword at his belt and an eye toward the camp.

He wonders if he is thirsty because of the poison and if Balinor _will_ give him the antidote before leaving Camelot.

And if the man will really find a cure for the pestilence that hits the city.

He tries not to think about Guinevere, Morgana, his father, Gaius, Sir Leon and those they left behind to go get help. He hopes everyone is fine...

When he comes back to the fire, Merlin is watching Balinor intensely.

\- "Have you ever been to Ealdor?" he asks suddenly.

The question stings Arthur like a wasp and he stumbles on a bag, before sitting down.

\- "Spent some time there", the man shrugs, focused on the motion of his knife.

Merlin's blue eyes are staring at him intensely.

\- "Did you see there a woman who looked like a princess?"

The man chuckles softly, if a little surprised, and his dark eyes look at Merlin with a glint of kindness.

\- "You're a strange lad, aren't you, boy?" he says before resuming to his task. "I don't know many women that are _real_ princesses, but yeah. There was a woman who could have been a queen, there. She was beautiful and sweet. Hunith was her name."

Arthur snorts: _since when princesses qualify only for their beauty? What do you do with his betrothed Elena, then?_

Merlin had not moved.

\- "Did you _know_ her?"

The man darkens.

\- "Loved her, once."

Now Arthur knows where this conversation is heading, but he can not bring himself to stop it.

It doesn't feel like he has any right to do so.

No matter how Gaius' ward – well, his grand-son, actually - learned the truth, it's up to him to make that choice.

\- "Well… I'm Hunith's son", says Merlin.

The knife stops for a split second, but the man only blinks slightly.

\- "She got married, then", he mutters. "Good for her. She deserved to be happy."

Merlin looks a bit confused for a moment, then he cokes his head to the side and looks even more deeply at the man.

\- "She never got married", he states.

* * *

**_TBC_ **


	7. NO MAN IS WORTH YOUR TEARS

For a moment, the cold night is only disturbed by the whisper of leaves, the distant muffled calls of animals and the crackling of the flames.

Arthur holds his breath.

\- "I am your son", presses Merlin, startled by the lack of reaction from Balinor.

_It would almost be funny if it was not so sad._

The man looks up and his dark eyes dive into the cobalt orbs glued on him, as to probe, to insure this is the truth, to... _hold on to reality?_

Arthur can tell how much the former dragonlord is shaken by this revelation, despite his well-maintained poker face.

\- "I don't know what it's like to have a son", he finally mutters with an awkward smile.

Maybe it is the smoke, but his eyes are wet and stinging.

Merlin's big blue eyes well up with tears, but he smiles back, so widely the night seems to brighten up.

\- "Nor I to have a father", he replies feebly.

His shoulders are hunched apologetically and he looks so fragile, so thin, so naive, sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of the man who has not made a move to take him in his arms, that Arthur has to resist the need to get up and kick the dragonlord's obnoxious butt.

_Is it possible to be that stupid?_

Even the prince, who is far - _very far_ – from being effusive, knows Merlin deserves something _more_ than just a moist gaze.

The man clears his throat and puts the knife aside on the tree log. He looks around, finds the wooden spike prepared for the rabbit and skewers the animal on it before placing it over the fire. Then he gets up, brushes his leather jacket and scratches his beard.

\- "I'll be back", he grumbles.

And off he goes.

Merlin follows him with clouded eyes and his smile fades off slowly. He lowers his head, changes position and brings his knees to his chin.

_Pitiful._

Arthur is even more furious than when he had to drink the poison earlier in the day. Breathing deeply to calm down, he gets up and goes round the fire to come sit next to his manservant. He drops on the blanket, lightly shoves Merlin's shoulder.

\- "Hey", he tries.

Merlin ties his arms around his legs, no giving him a look.

\- "He just needs some time to get his head around it, don't worry", says the prince.

_He is a heartless git and he should have known better than hurting his son._

He is still so angry he keeps his voice quiet in case it would make that shrill sound he loathes.

\- "Merlin? Merlin, look at me."

Rather than complying, the boy buries his face deeper in the crook of his arms.

\- " _Mer_ lin. You're not supposed to disobey a direct order from your master."

The stifled sound he gets for answer is just the saddest thing in the world.

\- "He doesn't want me", stammers a small broken voice.

Arthur does not really _think_ , he just throws his arm around his servant almost as a reflex.

\- "That's not true", he says firmly, while his glove squeezes gently the bony shoulder of his manservant. "He was caught by surprise, that's all. Imagine what kind of face _I_ 'd pull if I were suddenly to learn _Gwaine_ is my brother."

Merlin looks up and sniffs loudly.

\- "Is he?" he perks up.

Arthur grimaces.

\- "No, of course _not_!" he protests. "Only an old _toad_ could have this kind of relationship with him."

He smiles and gives a friendly flick to the boy's cheek.

\- "What did I mention about servants who have runny noses?" he scolds softly.

Merlin pouts in apology and wipes his face with the back of his sleeve.

\- "Sorry ..."

Arthur takes off his arm from the skinny shoulders and ruffles his young servant's black hair.

\- "Good", he says.

His eyes scan the darkness of the woods in search of the man. Balinor better be back soon if he does not want the prince to go get him and bring him back by the collar of his ridiculous jacket.

Arthur sighs, annoyed. He gets up and paces around the fire, adds a log, looks up at the moon lurking in the emerging fog.

\- "You don't like him much, do you?"

He shrugs.

\- "I don't trust him yet", he corrects.

He snorts, his hands on his hips, then sits on the tree trunk and puts his elbows on his thighs.

\- "Merlin?"

\- "Hmm?"

\- "How did you know he was your father?"

The dark eyelashes blink fast, in a flash of guilty blue.

\- "I heard you talk to Gaius."

The prince nods.

\- "Well, that explains why you suddenly turned mute, I guess."

He pauses.

\- "I'm sorry, Merlin."

The boy shivers a little on his blanket. He pulls the one laying at his side and wraps his gangly frame in it.

\- "Why?" he asks, puzzled.

Arthur nibbles the inside of his cheek, lets out a contrite sigh.

\- "For everything."

Merlin tilts his head to the side.

\- "It's okay", he says, smiling at Arthur as if he was trying to cheer him up. "Everything will be fine. We'll come back to Camelot, people will be healed and Ba... Balinor will give you the antidote, my liege."

He wrinkles his nose a bit mischievously.

\- "Gaius will be very happy to see him again after so long! And Guinevere is going to be _awfully_ surprised when I'll tell her the _court physician_ is my grandfather. Gwaine will jump higher than Percival's head and I bet Lancelot will say that explains why I'm good at picking herbs..."

Arthur does not find the courage to shut down this stream of rushed, desperately cheerful words.

_Oh, Merlin. No, none of this will happen._

_Gaius will not greet his son with open arms and Balinor won't get the chance to meet our friends._

_Your father will be gone again, at some point, and you won't get a say about it._

Maybe it's not so bad the man has shown so distant after all. Their parting will surely be less painful that way...

Speaking of the devil, the former dragonlord is coming back. He sits down on the log in a swish of his long dark leather coat and deliberately avoids Merlin's gaze. He checks on the rabbit and scowls because they did not turn the spindle and their dinner is black on one side, pink on the other.

He does not utter a word throughout the whole meal and acts as if he was not aware of the glances thrown at him. Merlin went silent immediately when he returned and stayed eerily quiet until Arthur curtly ordered him to bed, annoyed by the repeated yawning of his servant who struggles to keep his eyes open.

\- "I'll wake you up when it's your turn to take watch."

Once Merlin is huddled under his blanket that lifts regularly, evidence that he's deep asleep, Arthur turns to Balinor who has retrieved a piece of wood from his pocket and begun to carve it.

_Really, for a physician, he tends to use the blade far too often._

The prince clears his throat.

\- "Did you really need to do that?" he scolds.

Balinor frowns. 

\- "His condition", he asks sternly. "It is an accident? A fever? Or was he born like this?"

Arthur relents.

\- "Gaius said he was born like that."

\- "What are his limitations?"

The man's tone is sharp, like the king's when he gets a report from his scouts.

The prince stirs uncomfortably on the tree trunk.

\- "You should ask Gaius", he retorts coldly.

The man looks up briefly and his eyes flash angrily.

\- "I'm asking _you_."

Arthur does not appreciate the least this lack of respect, but he is not fooled. He glimpsed briefly a spark of a distress behind the apparent aggressiveness of the former dragonlord.

He sighs - _again_. Apparently, that's what he does best since the beginning of this journey.

His eyes fall on the sleeping form of his servant.

\- "He can do _everything_ ", he says. "It's just that he does it _slower_. It's not like if he was a child in a man's body, he's... he understands more than a child, you can ask more of him. It's just that... he sees and reacts from a different perspective than common people. He has no practical sense _at all_ and _always_ puts himself in impossible troubles, but sometimes he displays strange and beautiful wisdom."

A smile touches his lips, without his noticing.

\- "Merlin is a good lad", he concludes. "Someone anyone would be proud to have as a friend."

He turns to the man and startles at his strange gaze.

\- "What?"

\- "Nothing", grunts Balinor, resuming to his wood carving.

\- "I _hate_ it when you do that", grumbles the prince.

He gets up and stretches, yawns widely.

\- "I guess you don't mind taking first watch, as you are keeping yourself busy", he scoffs, with a chin gesture towards the calloused hands of the former dragonlord.

Balinor does not bother to answer, as usual.

Arthur crams under his blanket, settles his head on his wrist and glances at him one last time.

_If you were to remove the thick bushy beard, the man's profile would look a bit like Gaius. His curly black hair is the same as Merlin, and he also slumps when sitting, just like the boy._

But Merlin's cobalt orbs must be a gift from Hunith and considering Balinor's broad figure, the frail body of his servant probably also came from his mother.

Arthur's lids are growing heavy.

_He wonders why Merlin's father went to Ealdor many years ago..._

_Why he left behind the woman he loved and was gone never to return..._

_Why..._

He is already asleep.

The man waits to be certain the prince has drifted off to deep slumber before getting up carefully. He goes round the fire with surprising lightness, making sure he does not step on twigs or make the leaves crunch, then kneels beside Merlin.

For a moment, he contemplates the angular features of the sleeping boy, not saying anything, then his hand reaches out softly and he pushes away a black lock of hair from his son's forehead.

\- "I didn't know", he whispers. "I am so sorry... I didn't know..."

He closes his eyes and a tear trickles along his nose and disappears in his thick dark beard.

When Merlin opens his eyes, the next morning, there is a little wooden dragon on the stone next to his head.

oOoOoOo

Arthur digs his heels into the horse's flanks, dashing up the last hill that separates them from the border. When he gets to the top, he looks back, pushing aside a branch that splashes him with cold droplets, and watches the progress of the rider behind him.

The sun is warm on his cheek, but barely enough bright to slid gold in his blonde hair through the tawny foliage of the forest of Ascetir.

It feels like it was just yesterday they camped in the clearing below, but it's been over a month, now.

Camelot is recovering from the scars left by the epidemic. They have begun to rebuild the houses that were burnt to clean up the streets. It will take a long time for this ordeal to be forgotten, but at least no one is sick anymore. Uther opened the granaries and had food distributed, Gaius is finally on his feet and watches carefully the healing of the oldest folks.

Guinevere and Morgana are supplying clothing and blankets for the lower town people. They even sewed rag dolls for the youngest girls. Sir Leon slept for three days, then went back to work and is supervising the reconstruction of the buildings.

Merlin... Merlin is everywhere, as usual. Cheeks smeared with soot, hands in soap, carrying stones or pulling timber carts, smiling and encouraging everyone.

Lancelot, Gwaine and Percival returned from the Perilous Lands with a rusty fork, very pleased with their journey. Gwaine spoke of wyverns and apple pies, Percival complained of mud and blisters. Lancelot is already in the process of writing an epic poem about their quest and will certainly want to declaim it next time they find themselves enjoying a tankard of mead under the stars - gods have mercy.

And Arthur has so many things to tell them he does not even know where to start.

\- "You're too heavy for the poor nag", he tells Balinor when the man makes it up hill.

The former dragonlord simply raises an eyebrow.

\- "Wait a few years, when you are king. With all these banquets you'll have to attend, you'll quickly become fat and impotent."

The prince snorts, amused.

\- "Not a chance", he retorts. "Merlin will never let me hear the end of it if he needs to make additional holes in my belt. I will _not_ give him that pleasure."

Balinor chuckles fondly, with this deep laughter he does not let people hear often.

Arthur and he spent hours together during the past month. Uther has seen the former dragonlord only once. The two men glared at each other in a suffocating silence before they reminded each other of their oaths to respect the fragile ceasefire agreement. Arthur also had to attend the first painful confrontation between Gaius and Balinor and, for once, he did not mind the abrupt way the man ends his conversations.

Gaius and his son met again later, but the prince left them alone this time. He swept away Merlin and they went to check the fountains and make sure the water ran clear and pure.

Merlin did not take long to discern under Balinor's gruff attitude the true feelings of the latter.

Uther had not left much leeway to his son, but he did not see any wrong in the 'idiot' bringing his meal to the recluse or spending time in the enclosed white courtyard the sun bathed in light in late afternoon. Merlin came every day to see his father. He was able to help him handle the potions and prepare the concoctions. He babbled, twittered, chatted - enough to make up for years of absence. He noted with interest the strange amity that was born between the prince and his prisoner, his big blue eyes filled with clueless joy as he listened to the two men swapping their points of view with passion.

Arthur does not agree with all of Balinor's strange ideas, but he acknowledges that they are fascinating. He does not concede to a kingdom where the people's voices would weigh as much as their monarch's but feels strangely attracted to the notion of equality between nobles and peasants, even if such a world hardly seems conceivable.

_After all, he is not himself friend with three men who are not of his pedigree but whose lives and assessments he values as much as his own?_

His horse balks and he comes back to the present. They are on the crest overlooking the border of Cenred. Deep in the valley, a streak of smoke rises above a group of houses: probably the inn where they spent the night on their first trip.

He turns to Balinor and finds him looking at him thoughtfully.

\- "This is where we part ways", the dusky voice of the man says.

His eyes look warmly at Arthur.

\- "It's not the border yet", the prince objects. "There's at least a league to the Kingdom of Cenred. I will not risk you violating the terms of our agreement and staying on this side of the White Mountains."

\- "I gave you _my word"_ , Balinor counters.

Arthur glowers.

\- Oh. _Please_.

The man laughs, then resumes to seriousness.

\- "Will you explain to him?"

Arthur nods.

\- "Yes", he says.

He does not ask because he swore to Gaius he would not, but he surely would like to be given a darn clue as to _why_ the former dragonlord is leaving _again_ without saying anything to his son.

Merlin deserved proper farewells.

\- "Will you go to Ealdor?"

Balinor turns away, contemplates the valley and the bird that crosses the immense pale sky.

\- "I'll stop by the village. I want to see where Hunith rests, pour wine over her grave and see if the squills blossomed."

Arthur bites his lips.

\- "Where will you go next?"

The man looks at him again, his brown eyes softening under his thick eyebrows.

\- "Why do you want to know, young prince? Are you going to hunt me down once the concord is over?"

\- "I'd like to know where Merlin could find you, if he wanted to, someday", is Arthur's muffled answer.

Balinor smiles sadly.

\- "It's better for him to stay in Camelot."

He urges on his horse on the path leading down to Cenred through the trees. Arthur hesitates, then he catches on him and blocks the passage with his steed.

The gnarled oaks around them are already beginning to eat up the light. The woods are darkening and the breeze is weaving through the carpet of auburn leaves covering the brown earth that smells of moss and heady humidity.

\- "Were you planning on leaving without giving me the antidote, now?"

Balinor chuckles to himself.

\- "There never was need of an antidote", he grins. "I merely gave you a draught that prevents spurts of boils… I just wanted to know if you were earnest."

\- "I suspected much…" groans Arthur with the sudden surge of doing something – like knocking the man to the ground and have him eat disgusting mushrooms sprinkled by fox's wee to make him pay.

But before he can even finish his sentence, an arrow swishes through the trees and embeds itself in his saddle with a sharp sound.

A second later, he jumps from his horse and his ears are filled with yelling and clashing of metal, and he finds himself back to back with Balinor, fighting what has to be a patrol from Cenred... definitely _not_ on the _good_ side of its border.

It does not last for long.

He is much more dexterous than most of his opponents and Balinor is far from being lame with a sword.

For a man who spends almost as much time as Gaius in dusty old books, Merlin's father shows rather surprising fighting skills.

Arthur gives a kick in the chest of the last soldier, sending him rounding down the slope before turning back, slightly breathless, to his traveling companion.

\- "Maybe Cenred is not the right destination for you", he says humorously. "You should try the beaches of Fyrien, they..."

And again, he does not have time to finish his sentence because the first soldier he took down props himself up on one elbow and shoots with his crossbow...

Arthur's eyes widen big as the shock takes his breath away. He crawls free, pushing aside the body of Balinor who collapsed after hurling him out of danger, ensures with a glance that the soldier who shot him has fallen unconscious, then checks the former dragonlord frantically.

\- "What have you done?" he stammers.

\- "Were you not… taught… to say… thank you… Sire?" Balinor sputters, before strangling a cry of anguish as he pulls out the arrow stuck in his side.

\- "Why?" stutters Arthur, propping the man on his lap, trying to stop the blood gushing oh so abundantly from the wound.

\- "Because… you're… Merlin's friend… "

\- "I'll get you back to Camelot! Gaius will care for you…"

\- "No… No, it's too late. Believe me, I _am_ a physician", Balinor adds with a faint smile.

His features convulse and he arches in pain, panting hard. When he manages to breath in slower intakes again, he grabs Arthur's face in his callous hands, strongly enough to almost bruise him.

\- "Arthur… take care of him…. Please… take care of Merlin…"

\- "I will", promises the prince whose heart is shattering like glass.

 _If it hurts that much to see Merlin's father die, what would it be if was_ his _?_

Burning tears are prickling in his eyes and he fights them, holding the man close, pressing on the wound desperately.

_Oh, how can he go back to Camelot and tell Gaius his son is dead?_

_How will he be able to face Merlin when he has failed him?_

The man struggles to stay conscious.

\- "Listen to me, lad… no man is worth your tears… don't weep for the dead, for mourning does not bring back people… but forgiveness … and kindness… will… change a heart. You… must care… for the living, Arthur…"

\- "Seems like I have the best teacher for that…" jokes Arthur hoarsely.

He feels life slipping out from the body of the man who grows heavy on his forearms, whose blood is soaking his shirt and breeches.

Balinor's arm has fallen back in the red-gold leaves. His pale face is contorted with pain, but his brown eyes are surprisingly appeased when they reopen softly.

\- "There will come… a time of great battles… and you'll have to lead an army… I know you're one of the strongest fighters among the five kingdoms… but it does not only take spirit and strength to win, Arthur…"

The young man nods, swallowing the tears he does not want to shed, out of respect for this man of science who, in a month, has taught him more than all the fencing masters the prince had since childhood.

\- "Arthur…"

\- "Shut up. You're even more talkative than Merlin", mutters the prince, biting his lip.

Balinor smiles, as if lost in a dream, then he writhes, moans, and his mouth fills up with blood.

\- "Ar't'r ..."

\- "I'm here", says the Prince through gritted teeth.

Balinor's hand crawls in the crunching dead leaves, back to his dark leather coat sticky with blood, looking for something in his pocket.

\- "H're ... i's ... f'r ... you ..."

Arthur grabs the trembling hand who does not have enough strength to hold the little wooden dragon.

\- "I will give it to Merlin", he promises with a heavy heart.

Balinor shakes his head weakly.

\- "No ... d'd two ... th'one… f'r you ..."

His glassy brown eyes gaze softly at the young prince.

\- "Th'nk ... you ... si ... re ..."

His eyelashes flutter and his neck falls slowly back.

Arthur gently lays him on the ground covered by an autumnal carpet and contemplates him in silence, his fists clenched, with on his knee the little dragon identical to Merlin's one.

He stays like this for a long time, unmoving, then rises, his mind made up.

When he's done burying Balinor, he returns to Camelot, without looking back.

He announces the death of his son to Gaius and leaves the old man pale and slumped in front of his table potions, before going in search of Merlin.

When he finds him, he does not pause, he does not lie, he explains in a few words what happened, and then hugs the sobbing boy, not saying a word.

Because Merlin is nothing more than a child whose father left without saying goodbye.

But Arthur is a man, and from that day onwards, he teaches his knights what he learned.

You do not stop to mourn the death of a warrior, you carry on what he started. 

* * *

_**TBC** _

* * *

_**Next chapter coming up: WHERE THERE'S SMOKE, THERE'S FIRE** _

_**It'll be the start of a new arc. A long one!** _


	8. WHERE THERE'S SMOKE, THERE'S FIRE

The forest is cloaked in white fog. The tawny leaves crunch dryly under the boots of the five men who are lining on a tree trunk covered with moss and lichen.

\- "When you're married, we won't be able to do that anymore..." says Gwaine in between big bites of grilled fish.

Lancelot nods, his black eyes watching the crackling fire that gives off a thick gray smoke. The wood is wet and the drops that fall sometimes from the trees evaporate with a peaceful _frishtt_ when they touch the hot stones.

\- "That's right", Arthur states quietly.

He does not add that if his father discovered his brotherhood with commoners, it would be over _now_.

\- "Good thing the wedding was postponed until spring, then..." Percival comments placidly.

Behind them, the gnarled old oak creaks when the wind swirls through the forest.

It is too cold to spend the night outside, so the wanderers all bunk together in Merlin's ridiculously small room and Arthur feels strangely left out. The next day, once he's sparred enough at the training site to make sure it won't attract suspicion, he leaves the drills to Sir Leon and runs to Gaius' chambers where he finds the gang trying to pretend the old physician's stodgy porridge is the _best_ breakfast they ever had. They spent the night chatting like girls in petticoats and are yawning indecently as they greet the prince.

Arthur finds life _very_ unfair. He'd give everything to be part of this careless happiness.

Half joking, half serious, Merlin offers to switch their roles, but it does not amuse him.

Hours go by too slowly and months run away too fast. The weather gets warmer and the trees are festooned with tiny pink flowers, bright green buds and flustered birds.

While the sentinel is giving him the morning report, Arthur watches Guinevere and Lancelot from the top of the watchtower. They are coming back from the market. The young man carries the basket with a silly happy face and the maid explains something while looking at a piece of paper. They are laughing in a breeze of cherry petals. They stop at a stall, their hands graze as they chose potatoes, they are giggling stupidly.

These two have become really good friends this winter, when Lancelot was sick and stayed in Gaius' chambers for several weeks. Gwaine is still the best to make the maid laugh out loud, but the young woman has taken in the habit to lowering her lids a little when Lancelot talks to her and smiling with a dab of pink on her cheeks. Even Percival, who is always the last to notice this kind of things, glances at them affectionately.

Arthur is puzzled. He should be jealous, shouldn't he? Yet he is not, _not really_ , even if he feels slightly annoyed with their lovey-dovey grins. He is beginning to understand that what draws him to Guinevere, more than her beauty or her courage, is the straightforward and earnest way she addresses him, like she's talking to a man, not to a prince. A bit like Merlin does.

_Like a_ _conscience._

You do not marry your conscience, however. Even if the rustle of her dress brings a strange warmth to your neck.

And Arthur is desperately trying to fall in love with Elena of Gawant, because Uther is adamant: the wedding _will_ take place, no matter what his son thinks of the young woman:

\- "She's about as shy as a wild colt, Father."

\- "She has energy, I agree. A healthy woman brings joy to her husband."

\- "This old horror that serves as a nanny to her shows more grace than my betrothed."

\- "At least, Princess Elena exercises restraint in her advances, Arthur, like a proper lady. This Grunhilda… _overwhelms_ our poor Gaius with hers every time she's visiting the castle. The poor man is at the end of his wits."

\- "How can you imagine I will fall in love with a woman who snacks on _frogs_?"

\- "The Gauls are fond of this delicacy, I'm told."

It is hair pulling.

And Merlin is of no help, these days. Not only does he stay resolutely mute, lips tightened to signify he will not participate in any debate on the issue (he gave Arthur his uncompromising opinion: "people should marry for love, that's all"), but he also shows particularly nervous and upset every time he meets Morgana in a hallway. The only explanation that can be drawn out of him is a stubborn shake of his head and an enigmatic phrase, "uh-uh, not a good idea."

Arthur asked Guinevere about it and she just shrugged. She thinks Merlin does not like the new chambermaid of the princess, Sefa, though she seems to be quite a nice and insignificant young person to the eyes of the prince. Morgana gets along very well with her and often takes her with her for a ride. Guinevere appreciates this friendship, especially since it exempts her from riding to accompany her mistress whenever she wants to escape the monotony of the castle.

Arthur does not see anything wrong with this: Morgana is smiling again since Sefa started working for her and it has not happened for a long time. Merlin must have misinterpreted _one_ word _once_ , and this animosity is unfounded. The prince still insisted on accompanying his sister during one of her regular jaunts and vowed he would _never_ do that _again_. Apparently, the idea of a successful afternoon for Morgana is to giggle while braiding bluebells in her maidservant's hair. And he did not really like to be the target of the jokes of the princess who seems to enjoy much his distress about Lady Elena.

_There is no_ _need to worry._

He is wrong to think so, but he does not know it yet.

He keeps on with his own routine, obeying his father, trying to stay awake during the boring lessons that Geoffrey of Monmouth gives him on the laws and decrees of Camelot, participating in councils where his opinion is asked more and more often, training the knights with Sir Leon, mapping the kingdom, winning tournaments, courting Lady Elena with as much good will he can muster - and _blessed_ be the thick snow that paralyzed the roads for _most_ of the winter and prevented him from traveling to the estate of Lord Godwyn, giving him a perfect excuse to avoid his fiancée - attending banquets and patrolling to look out for bandits... and sneaking to the croaked oak whenever he gets the chance, to breath away from the pressure.

He just cannot find out how to disentangle the skein. To know _where_ to start, _how_ to change, _what_ to do with all he has learned, experienced, discovered since two years ago, when he stopped thinking like Uther Pendragon, the man who betrayed his mother, the one on whom he had based his life… his father.

For weeks, he behaves well. Then - it takes him long and he nearly misses his last chance – Arthur finally manages to be true to himself and to tell his father he will not go through with the wedding.

This is his first step, his first personal decision on the long road ahead him.

He is just _a bit_ embarrassed that he waited until Lady Elena was walking down the red carpet in her embroidered silky dress to take her hand and tell her he was _sorry_ , but he was _not_ going to marry her.

There is quite an uproar in the great hall and the veins on Uther's forehead look ready to burst… but then the young woman giggles, amused, and tells him she is quite pleased he has spoken before she would.

For all her clumsiness and not-very-dainty-like personality, she _has_ honor and Arthur has grown quite attached to her – as a _friend_.

He is _baffled_ to learn that she feels this way too and _very pleased_ to hear that he won't break her heart: knights aren't supposed to make ladies cry.

The king is infuriated and ready to throw his son into the dungeons and have him marry the lady anyway – maybe not in this order.

But Elena's father - who happens to be the closest thing to a best friend to Uther – soothes him and drags him out of the great hall. Lord Godwyn is disappointed with the marriage not happening, of course, but he is impressed by Arthur's sheer determination and his well-turned speech.

The dignified and calm tone of the prince has offended no one, he was courteous and there is some truth in what he said: a miserable king won't bring any good to his queen and his people.

_-_ _"I hope you find happiness with a man who loves you with all his heart."_

Uther paces for a while, growling and fuming like an angry wild boar, his eyes narrowed and his lips pursed. Then he stops in front of the window and wearily runs a hand through his gray hair.

He _knows_ exactly where this ridiculous idea that whether noble or commoner anyone should be able to choose their way comes from and he is determined to fight it with all his might.

Balinor's dead spirit but very much alive ideas will not poison the mind of his son.

\- "Don't punish him, Uther. Arthur will be a great king someday. You should be proud of him. And perhaps, it is time for some of the old traditions to change..."

Elena goes back home after offering the prince to beat him in a horserace anytime he feels the desire to and Arthur smiles back sincerely.

\- "Goodbye, my lady."

Merlin gives him a nudge.

\- "You'll miss her, won't you?"

The prince waits for the visitors to have crossed the drawbridge, then snorts.

\- "Goodness, _no_."

He grabs his servant, locks him under his armpit, and drags him to his chambers. The weather is beautiful and he has not felt this good in months.

This is the perfect time for a nice hunt that will lift up Morgana's spirits and make Merlin grumble endlessly. _Just what will keep Arthur in this wonderful mood._

Summer comes at the speed of a runaway horse, filling the days with splashing and laughter, and the nights with songs of troubadours and locusts. Wheat stems are waving in the fields, blond and heavy grains promising a good harvest, reserves for long. The sky is big, bright and as blue as Merlin's eyes. They have not seen a single bandit raid for weeks.

Everything is fine, except the king's health is not very good. He's plagued with frequent migraines, sleeps poorly because of nightmares and none of the potions Gaius gives him seems to relieve him. Arthur is worried about his father, but Uther is more concerned with the rumors that could spread. If their enemies were to learn he is sick, Camelot would be jeopardized.

The monarch therefore insists in attending the audiences himself and responding in person to the requests presented to him.

Arthur is quite surprised, however, to see him take seriously the story of a shepherd who claims he saw smoke rising from the ruins of Idirsholas somewhere far in the North. The peasants tremble in their breeches: apparently it is bad omen. The prince thinks they should pay more attention to Sir Leon's reports about the hundreds of mercenaries migrating to Cenred's kingdom with alarming regularity, but Uther raises his hand impatiently.

\- "Take one or two men with you and go check what happened. The Knights of Medhir are not to be taken lightly."

\- "You can't be serious, Father! These are _legends_ , just as 'dangerous' as ghosts."

Well, apparently this _is_ the point for the king who struggles every night with the shadows of the past and the cries of those he executed during the Great Purge.

Arthur leaves at dawn the next day, with Merlin as only companion.

He does not usually take the lad with him on patrols. Mainly because on such parties, squires can fill in for a servant's duties, but also because he would not know what to do with the gawky boy if they were attacked by bandits: tell him to hide behind a bush? There's _no way_ Merlin would comply. He'd rather jump into battle to try saving his master and end up wounded – or _worse_.

And there is a third reason the prince avoids doing so, even though Merlin has practically _begged_ him to let him go with the knights: he does not like killing people but he knows it has to happen in order to protect peace in the Kingdom. When they are patrolling and have to fight, he does his duty, and after so many years, it does not affect him as much anymore to see the corpses scattered around them when the woods come back to quietness. But somehow, he does not want Merlin to see this side of him.

Maybe that's why the knights leave their families behind at the castle and put on a bright smile when they enter the courtyard and see their loved ones waiting for them down the white stairs. Sir Leon's young wife runs to him and she has _no idea_ how much fuss he made, back then at the forest stream, to make sure there weren't too many blood stains on his cloak.

So Arthur squares his tired shoulders, puts on his best prattish face as he dismounts, and lets Merlin's oblivious chirping wash away the bitter stench of death.

But this time, the place for which they are heading is so dull there will certainly be no battle, no bandits, nothing but stinky sheep and nettles that sting you when you slip into the woods to answer Nature's call.

There are three days until the bare moors that surround the ruins of Idirsholas and Arthur is in no hurry.

His last talk with his father went wrong.

_-_ _"You spend too much time away from the castle and you neglect your duties. I'm beginning to think you behave less like a prince and more and more like a commoner. Do not think I'm fooled, Arthur. I_ know _Balinor tried to convert you to his refractory ideas and I won't let you to fall into the trap of his words."_

_\- "Balinor has nothing to do with my behavior, Sire. I don't need anyone to tell me what to think and how to see what is necessary to the welfare of my people._

_\- "Wonderful thinking of yours which cost us a valuable alliance with the house of Gawant! And explain to me: why am I told you give more importance to the words of this idiot than to those around you that are born from noble families?"_

_\- "Sir Elric was wrong and it has been proven, Father."_

_\- "Nevertheless, you can not humiliate a knight because your manservant is right! Arthur, I think it is time that you separate yourself from that boy. How old is he?"_

_\- "I don't know. Twenty, perhaps twenty-one."_

_Merlin looked like a rangy sixteen- or seventeen-years old lad when he arrived in Camelot and he may well have grown taller of a dozen centimeters since, his features have not changed one bit._

_\- "Nearly coming of age, then. It is obvious that he will never exceed the limits of his mental impairment. He served you well, but now your responsibilities are increasing, you have to get rid of him. It is totally inappropriate for the Crown Prince of Camelot to be followed everywhere by a gangly idiot."_

_\- "But, Father, Merlin..."_

_-_ _"Enough! Gaius will keep using him as an errand boy and he will serve in the kitchen or the stables, wherever his clumsiness will cause the least hindrance. I don't know how you got yourself so fond of his presence, Arthur. Really, I do not understand."_

_-_ _"If you'd take time to actually care for your people, or for me, you would know! Merlin changes people's lives, there is something bright in him... and... he's my ... my fr-"_

_-_ _"Nonsense! A prince has no use for the company of a peasant boy and I will not hear more of this rambling! As soon as you come back from patrol, I will ask the Steward to assign you another servant. Not a word, Arthur. I am your father and you king. You will show me respect and obedience."_

A clap of thunder rumbles in the clear sky and Merlin jumps. His horse swerves and the prince's steed answers with a nickering, pulling his rider out of his gloomy thoughts.

\- "What is it? Another of these funny feelings of yours?"

The lanky boy shakes his head.

\- "No-o. It's going to rain."

Arthur looks up and scans the horizon.

\- "I don't think so. There's not a cloud. It was your stomach, I bet."

\- "I'm not Lady Elena", Merlin protests, laughing.

His blue glaze rests on his master, a little worried.

\- "You all right, Arthur?"

\- "Hmm."

\- "Did you argue with the king?"

The prince winces.

\- "Is it _that_ obvious?"

The young servant takes the time to pat the sweaty neck of his horse.

\- "We went hotfoot, as if you wanted to put as many leagues as possible between you and the castle."

\- "It's just so hot that spending six days macerating in the same clothes without taking a single bath seems to be something we need to be quickly over with."

The dark eyebrows arch, insightful.

\- "You swam for _two hours_ in the river last night while I was doing _laundry_."

\- "It is _your_ smell I don't want to put up with."

Merlin does not even flinch.

\- "The King's got the migraine, that's why he's angry with everyone", he says after a moment of silence.

The hoofs of their horses trot silently on the soft earth that exhales a heather fragrance.

\- "And he's worried about the Lady Morgana."

It is Arthur's turn to frown.

\- "The Lady Morgana?" he repeats, surprised. "Why?"

Merlin hesitates, almost as if he is going to betray a secret.

\- "The guards caught her. _Twice_. It's Sefa's fault. Guinevere never agreed with the princess going out at night and ..."

Arthur pulls suddenly on the reins and his horse stops with an indignant neighing.

\- " _Morgana_ leaves the castle _at night_?"

\- "Every Wednesday night. It's been a year, now", tersely informs his servant, before embarking on a breathless speech, as if he had waited for this question to unload everything weighting on his heart. "She doesn't like anyone to follow her, so Guinevere said it was fine if Sefa accompanied her at least now, because Sefa has a small dagger, but I don't think this is a good idea. Sefa is _not_ a very good person and the Lady Morgana cries when she comes back and then the blonde lady told her things that frighten her and I told Guinevere she needs to tell you and she scolded me because it could make you feel bad and I don't want you to be angry again like the first time, but I didn't tell Guinevere because she couldn't know who it is but I _think_ it is not a good friend for her and now the princess is not fine _at all_ , and if the king learns she has seen the blonde lady he _will_ get angry and the Lady Morgana will throw a fit again... "

Arthur interrupts the stream of words with an imperious gesture.

\- " _Wait_. Stop. What blonde lady, Merlin? What do you mean? Why would my father and I be upset about this new friend of Morgana's? And for the love of mud, _how_ comes my sister manages to convince her servants it is right to let her out of the castle _at night_? The woods around Camelot are anything but a place for a lady!"

A thought crosses his mind and his eyes blaze.

\- "Unless... Don't tell me she meets this person in the _tavern_!" he utters, horrified at the thought of his royal sister visiting the sordid place full of rude and dangerous men.

\- "No, no, not at all", protests Merlin, alarmed.

He launches back into scrambled explanations and Arthur must dismount and lead his horse by the bridle to sort out what he hears.

When he believes he has a grasp over what's happening, he ponders about shortening this stupid dispatch to the ruins of Idirsholas to return at full speed to the castle.

This blonde lady Morgana is secretly meeting might be their half-sister Morgause, and even if she did not indicate any intention to harm them the only time Arthur met her, he remembers her pale, cold eyes and the uncanny smile that adorned the delicate mouth of the young woman. Morgana is so impressionable, so young and so naive... if Morgause has met her in secret for so long, who knows what has been drilled into her head? Painful, bitter, demanding thoughts... which would explain the dark moods of the princess in the last months.

\- "Arthur?"

The prince shakes his head to get rid of the blond locks falling into his eyes and of the feeling of uneasiness.

\- "You should have told me", he scolds. "Morgana should not endanger herself and dwell on the past with a woman who is nothing but _a stranger_ to us. I will have a word with her when we return. Anything _else_ you've been hiding from me?"

\- "Nothing", breathes Merlin sheepishly, adding with concern: "Will Guinevere be in trouble now you don't fancy her anymore?"

Arthur chokes on his own saliva.

\- "WHAT? _Mer_ lin, I hope you don't believe me to be so versatile! I don't change my attitude towards a woman or a- a- a servant according to my mood or my… _fancies_!"

\- "Why are you so mean to Georges, then?" asks innocently his manservant.

\- "I'm not _mean_ to him! Georges is just the dullest and the most boring servant I ever... and you know what, _Mer_ lin, I think _you_ are the one in trouble!" Arthur says, getting back on his saddle and engaging in the pursuit of the boy who started to chuckle when he heard him rant about the man who usually replaces him at the prince's service.

They make it to the ruins before dark. Once the horses are settled outside, Arthur draws his sword and goes in search of whatever was the source of the smoke seen a week earlier by the shepherd. Merlin leaves the saddlebags on the ground and cautiously follows him.

The prince stifles an amused smile watching from the corner of his eye how his manservant walks side-stepping and sticks out his slender neck to look all around him.

It is cold and dark in the castle. Thick and white cobwebs cling to the pillars and the statues like ethereal lace curtains.

As expected, Arthur finds a cold brazier in what must be the old armory.

\- "Probably just travelers passing through", he sighs. "So much for ghosts. My poor father must be very sick to believe such nonsense..."

\- "Arthur", Merlin says in a funny voice.

\- "Oh, that's not how you're going to scare me", Arthur snickers over his shoulder. "It takes much more for me to scream like a _girl_ , like a certain servant did when a bat pulled his hair the night before last..."

But Merlin's hand tugs at his sleeve.

\- " _Arthur_ ", he presses.

The prince spins on his heels, a mocking reflection on his lips, which goes off at the moment his eyes meet the black figure who crept on them.

Something heavy scrapes on the pavement behind him, the moon through the narrow loopholes slides with a metal glint on his right...

They are cornered.

Arthur inhales deeply, reaches out and pushes his servant to his left in the same move he slaughters the first of his assailants.

\- "Run, Merlin! GO!"

They are four or five, hopefully no more than that: big beards, armors made of odds and ends, absolutely pestilential breaths. _Bandits_. Arthur wields his sword, wraps his cloak with a swift motion around his forearm and uses it to ward off the blows.

_Where's Merlin? If they can get out of this room and run to the horses, they might have a chance. Where is Merlin, for goodness' sake? Is he already outside, has he been captured?_

Someone bumps against his shoulder and he catches a glimpse of a mop of black hair and blue eyes frightened but determined.

\- " _MER_ LIN! WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? DO AS I SAY!" yells the prince, furious and terrified.

His manservant does not bother to answer. He found a piece of wood – a half spear or something of the like - and he _is_ defending his master as clumsily as it was to be expected.

_Oh gods, they will kill him._

Arthur renews his efforts in the melee, but it's hopeless. There are too many, they keep coming from nowhere, they will never get out...

\- "Hurry, Sire!"

Merlin pulls him by his cloak, half chokes him as he clings to him from behind and Arthur does not understand what he is doing until a pile of stones collapses between him and his assailants in a chalky cloud. Coughing and spluttering, he comes out of the citadel, followed by his manservant, and stumbles, trying to catch his breath, a chortle on his lips.

\- "Well done! Who would have thought? You saved my life, Merlin!"

The gangly boy glares at him, still frightened, panting and covered in white dust.

\- "We were _lucky_ the place was ready to crumble any time", he snaps. "Ha! There were tough _ghosts_ , this lot!"

Arthur giggles, relief washing over his shoulders. He sheathes his sword and grins.

\- "I think you just proved my father wrong. You're a great bodyguard, _Mer_ lin. Fighting with _walls_ is not a gift everyone has!"

His smile fades off a bit when he notices the gash in his servant's jacket.

\- "What happened to your arm?"

Merlin winces slightly when he touches the bleeding cut.

\- "Oh, I must have caught it on something."

Arthur positively beams.

\- "Your first battle wound! Congratulations!"

He rips a piece of his tunic.

\- "Don't! You'll ruin it", squeals Merlin.

\- "Don't worry. You can mend it", says Arthur as he swiftly ties the piece of cloth around the small wound. "Here, that's better. I don't want to bring you back too banged up to Gaius."

Merlin breathes through his nose and opens his mouth to reply sharply.

And that's the last thing Arthur sees before collapsing on the ground when something whacks him from behind with brutality.

oOoOoOo

When he regains consciousness, he is at the bottom of a well, spread on moldy straw that reeks of urine, in a circle of men in rags staring at him.

\- "Merlin?" he mumbles.

His manservant's face pops up above him.

\- "Arthur! You're awake!"

He reaches out to the young man who hoists him to his feet. Arthur sways, dizzy, then casts a glance around him, quickly, to assess the situation.

_Captured. They have been captured. Where is this place? Who detains them prisoners? Do they know he is the heir to Camelot?_

Someone slaps his shoulder and the prince turns round immediately, growling.

\- "Touch me again, you die."

Two brown eyes flash a smile at him and the man raises his hands in front of him, laughing.

\- "No manners, you royals."

\- "Gwaine!" Merlin chirps and his blue eyes fill up with hope while the man ruffles his hair affectionately.

Arthur looks at his friend from top to bottom.

\- "What are _you_ doing here?"

\- "Well, you know… wrong place, wrong time, wrong drink", eludes the man, throwing back his hair with his usual cheeky smile.

The prince rolls his eyes.

\- "Nothing's changed there, then.... what have you done with Percival and Lancelot? Are they here as well?"

Gwaine looks offended.

\- "I'm not _all the time_ with them. I have me life. We're not married, y'know."

Arthur scoffs.

He looks around, his fists on his hips, examines the place, the people gathered around them, the oozy walls, and calculates their chances to escape from this prison.

\- "Where are we?" he asks in his sharp 'I'm the leader' voice.

Merlin recognizes the attitude his master takes when he gets on his horse before going out to patrol and he immediately tucks his rangy limbs along his scrawny body, ready to respond to the first order like a good soldier.

\- "In the well of an old castle. Belongs to a fellow named Jarl", answers Gwaine."Lovely bloke. Slave trader."

\- "Oh."

Arthur nibbles his lips, deep in thought, when spittle falls into the well and misses his cheek by an inch. He looks up, outraged, and meets the fiendish eyes of the ugliest man he ever met.

\- "Well, well, well, you filthy vermin. Which one of you's ready to face my champion in the arena for the pleasure of my beautiful lady?"

Gwaine clears his throat discreetly.

\- "Beautiful" is a tad exaggerated, I must say", he whispers under his brown beard.

The thug leaning on the edge of the well, far above them, moistens his lips and points a grime nail towards Merlin.

\- "You, locust."

\- "Me?" repeats the manservant in a slightly strangled voice, glancing in distraught around him.

The man bursts into crude laughter. Arthur grinds his teeth and steps forward.

\- "Hey!" he shouts. "Who is this so-called champion? Can he crush nothing but weaklings like this one?"

\- "Oy", grunts Merlin.

Jarl scratches his ear for a moment, then blows on what he extracted from his ear canal and chews the inside of his cheek with satisfaction.

\- "Why? You think you could offer a better show to the fairest of them all?"

\- "Arthur, _no_ ", mumbles Gwaine.

\- "I guarantee it", Arthur says firmly, pushing Merlin behind him in what he thinks is a discreet motion but is not lost at all to the slave trader.

\- "Very well. But if you lose, I'll feed your little friend the dragonfly here to the crows piece by stinking piece."

Merlin shivers despite his unwavering faith in Arthur.

\- "I will not lose", asserts the prince with his most contemptuous look.

Jarl's abominable smile widens even more.

\- "So, are you ready, my champion?" he calls.

There is a moment of silence, then Gwaine looks up, very serious.

\- "I am", he says.

* * *

**_TBC_ **


	9. LONG, LONG WAY HOME

The brutish crowd around them chants "blood, blood, blood," and the room echoes with guttural bawls. Braziers are casting fulvous shadows on the stone walls blackened with smoke and grime. The "fairest of them all" claps merrily: she is a creature with massive boobs, shaggy brassy hair and the nose of a Goblin, dressed in a garish frock. At her side is Jarl, a smutty look on his face, seated in his armchair covered with furs and tanned pelts. Next to him stands a gorilla dressed in woolen rags who is twisting Merlin's arm behind his back.

Arthur's eyes go back to Gwaine in front of him and he can not hide a frustrated sigh.

 _Of all the hopeless or ridiculous situations he went through in his life,_ this _is probably the worst._

He tightens his hand on the pommel of the shabby sword they have given him and starts the fight.

Gwaine takes it seriously and obviously they have to, since there isn't really another option. If one does not kill the other, the _three_ of them will die. The prince is wracking his brains. If only he could create confusion, they _could_ manage to run away. He remembers which way they were brought out of the well and in the dimly lit room stuffed with half drunk thugs.

They are in one of the outposts Merlin and he spotted while going to the ruins of Idirsholas. This tower is probably one of the scarce places in the moors where the ceiling does not drip when it rains. If they can get out, they will have a chance - slim, _very slim_ , but big enough - to reach the bogs and hide there. The bandits will not follow them on horses in such a dangerous area. It is night. It means they could be safe in the forest by morning if they do not stop.

He is drenched in sweat; his split lip is bleeding and a bruise pulses under his brow. They are no more fighting with swords, now, but wrestling on the dirty floor. Gwaine is no better looking than him – well, the tussle _has_ look real.

Still it does not stop Arthur from glaring furiously at his opponent when the latter shoves his knee in the prince's midriff.

\- "Kill, kill, kill!" vociferate the bandits, and they splash the gunky tiles with bad vine when they toast.

Straw and mud mat Gwaine's hair and he keeps one eye shut, while scuffling off his opponent with a grin.

\- " What happens next?" he gasps.

Arthur would love to know as well.

That's when a yelp of pain shots in the din, followed immediately by a mess worthy of the most sordid tavern. Merlin just bit the man who restrained him. The man has let go of him, stepped back and then - well, it is not entirely clear, but it seems a candelabra fell on the threadbare canopy overhanging the seat of the "fairest of them all" and has set fire to the lady's dress and to the curtains soaked in boar grease and ale during the previous orgies.

In the panic, Gwaine and Arthur jump on their feet, pick up their swords and make their way through the thieves and the thick smoke. They grab Merlin and sprint at the top of their lungs towards the exit.

It is only when they reach the peat bogs in the night, that they allow themselves to stop to catch their breath. The moon is high above them and glints in the water holes.

\- "Come on", Arthur orders hoarsely, after casting a glance at the sky quickly filling with dark clouds. "Let's hurry, before the light disappears, if we don't want to end up drowned like rats."

They leave behind the burning tower and stumble along the spongy mounds covered with sphagnum moss and bulrushes.

When the sun rises, they are almost at the edge of the forest, exhausted, covered in mire (they all fell flat at some point), heads clogged by the acid fumes, boots soggy and cold.

Arthur suspects Merlin of walking on autopilot. He himself stumbles, weary, and relies on the tip of his sword to walk straight, his eyes feeling terribly heavy and sandy. Gwaine touched some unknown plant and is rubbing his itching forearm while muttering like a madman.

_Good news is, they have not been followed._

When they finally enter the trees canopy and the ground starts to be a little more solid under their soles, the prince decides it is time to take a break.

Merlin collapses on a pile of dried leaves and falls asleep in a matter of seconds following the statement. Gwaine looks at him fondly, before leaving on his slightly wobbly legs.

\- "Where're you going?" Arthur calls back with a frown.

His thighs are trembling with fatigue, and his damp shirt dabbing against the skin of his back is extremely unpleasant.

\- "To get something to eat, your Highness", answers the young bearded man over his shoulder. "I don't fancy fasting any longer. You might have your princely paunch to keep you from starving, but _I_ don't and Merlin can't afford to lose more weight, he'd become invisible."

Arthur manages to not yelp "I'm not _fat_!" and painfully hoists himself up.

 _Wood_. _Water. Rest._

_Basics._

First, they need to start a fire to dry their clothes. There is a stream somewhere close, they will be able to quench their thirst before they start on the long journey home to Camelot. And they will need to rest at some point if they want to make it through the summer heat.

When Merlin's eyelids flutter open, he finds his master grumbling between his teeth because he keeps failing at igniting the pile of wet wood. The lanky boy yawns widely, then gets up and takes the two stones from Arthur quietly.

\- "Let me do it, sire."

\- "Ha! Finally, you deign gracing us with your presence", groans the prince who let the boy sleep on purpose. "I was wondering if it'd slipped your attention that you're my _manservant_ , and so are _not supposed_ to be _snoring_ during your working hours."

Merlin ignores the gibe and lights the fire in less than a minute. He coughs and sputters when thick smoke rises, moves back and sits on a rock covered in moss.

\- "Where's Gwaine?"

\- "Here and he found us some breakfast", trumpets the young man behind them, leaning to pass under a branch.

He sits down next to Merlin and opens his tunic in which he has nestled half a dozen eggs. They cook them under the ashes. Arthur feels a bit squeamish when he finds a half-roasted chick in one of the shells, but he eats it with a grimace, because he knows they need all their strength for the trip back.

\- "It's a five- or six-days walking to Camelot. We need to get horses."

\- "Yeah", agrees Gwaine who is watching Merlin burning his fingers as he sucks up the contents of the last egg (not even consulting each other, the two men casually left it to him). "We need to get there faster. I'm looking forward to telling Percival how I crushed you in the arena."

The prince clears his throat.

\- "You never did. That was just a _game_."

Gwaine winks and his smile grows bigger in his beard.

\- "Oh, a game, _right_. I won that game, did I not?"

\- " No, you didn't," Arthur protests. "One more minute..."

\- "Oh, enough with you two!" Merlin cuts in, annoyed. "One more minute and you both would've been dead. Neither of you won. Your so-called plan was a half-baked disaster, and if it was not for that fire, we would all be pushing up daisies!"

The two men exchange a look and Gwaine reaches out and ruffles the dark hair of the boy.

\- "When did you become so skinny, _Lancelot_?" he chuckles.

\- "Give back that egg, Merlin", Arthur growls, failing to hide his amusement.

The servant hurries to swallow what's left of his breakfast, squirming to evade Gwaine's hand and glaring at them reproachfully.

The sun is getting higher in the sky and so is the not very discreet smoke.

By late afternoon, they pass by a village and Arthur complains about his bag full of gold coins left at the ruins of Idirsholas. They will never be able to negotiate horses so far from Camelot, no one will recognize his royal face. Gwaine taps him on the shoulder and takes off his boot, triggering protests from Merlin who pinches his nose.

\- "Allow me to put you in debt, Sire", says the young man pulling a few coins from under his sole.

Arthur snorts wryly.

\- "And here, they say money has no smell..."

He gives a shove to his friend with satisfaction and goes down through the trees towards the houses.

Two days later, they reach the Darkling Woods and camp under the shelter of a huge rock. Merlin is busy putting ceps on a twig, babbling as usual, when Arthur suddenly raises his arm.

\- "Listen."

His servant tilts his head aside after a while.

\- "I don't hear anything."

\- "Exactly", whispers the prince.

\- "Never satisfied, you city types", joshes Gwaine. "It's too noisy, it's too quiet..."

He does not have time to finish his sentence because the horses suddenly go into a fit of neighing and struggling before they _run off_.

\- "I tied the bridles right, I promise!" exclaims Merlin right away.

Gwaine picks up his sword and his focused face no longer looks ready to jest.

\- "D'you think they found us?" he whispers to Arthur whose eyes survey the undergrowth.

\- "They'd have gotten to us much earlier..." answers the prince in a strained voice.

He kicks the fire, disperses and crushes the embers under his heels, swamps them in the soft black earth wet from the tepid late afternoon rain. As the evening darkens, they will be an easy target if they stay in the light.

\- "Merlin, hide under the rock", he orders.

\- "Won't."

Irritated, he glances at his manservant who stood up and is now looking around, trying hard to hide his fear, armed with a porous piece of wood that barely stands a chance to bruise the enemy's forehead.

\- "Put this ridiculous twig down and do _as I say_ ", Arthur hisses.

Merlin shakes his head stubbornly.

Gwaine clicks his tongue. The prince points at a group of trees.

\- "There."

The two men split up and move slowly, knees bent, their swords ready to strike.

A thud in their backs startle them and they spin round immediately, only to come face to face with a soldier form Cenred's army, who just jump off the rock above the camp.

Arthur's eyes widen in astonishment, but Gwaine bears down on the enemy without such qualms. And since other soldiers are bursting through the bushes, the prince is quickly distracted from the long series of questions hatching in his mind.

_Cenred? Here? But this is leagues and leagues away from the border! What does it mean? What was that disturbing report of Sir Leon again? How many mercenaries gathered on enemy land? Was it 5000, 10,000 or 20,000? Camelot is only two days' march from here... is the city safe?_

Glitters of metal illuminate the night and pained grunts mingle with the rustling of dry leaves.

Arthur whirls, wielding his sword at the attackers dressed in black and red uniforms. They are only three or four of them, it should be over quickly. Gwaine can easily take down half a dozen men all by himself, even when he's drunk. And the prince prides himself on his ability to double that number easily.

He steps aside to regain his balance and his foot slips on the moss at the foot of a tree. For a split second his guard is down and the sword of the man with whom he was struggling lashes his leg. He lets go of a bark of pain and falls on his knee, clutching his thigh as blood gushes out of the wound and stains the stiff fabric of his dirty breeches.

Nausea rises in his esophagus and Arthur swears through gritted teeth. If he was not exhausted by the constant ups and downs of this journey, he would be able to get up, he would not already feel his head spinning and his vision darkening.

The last thing he hears is Merlin's cry before he slips into blissful unconsciousness.

oOoOoOo

When he wakes up, it's Gwaine's face above him, this time. The young bearded man looks worried.

\- "Hey, princess. Back to us?"

Arthur winces and spits the saliva thickening in his mouth. He manages somehow to sit without passing out again.

\- "We need to go", he mumbles, exasperated by the slowness of his jaws to form words.

\- "Okay", says Gwaine, oddly complying.

Arthur accepts the hand that hoists him to his feet and, when the dizziness stops, is very crossed to find out it is _the next day_.

\- "What are we still doing here? We should have left at dawn!" he snarls, getting rid of what was keeping him from the night's chill and must be the jacket of his servant.

Merlin, who was kneeling beside him, dabbing his forehead with a cloth, whines a ridiculous excuse (something like: "you had a terrible fever"), but the prince does not even listen, already heading to Camelot with a heavy limp.

Gwaine arches an eyebrow, then gives Merlin a rueful smile.

\- "Come on. We can't leave him alone; I don't think he'd get along very well with the giant scorpions."

The gangly boy pales to the end of his protruding ears. He picks up his jacket and stumbles behind the bearded young man.

\- "Giant scorpions?"

\- "Serkets, they're called. The Darkling Wood are riddled with them", launches Gwaine over his shoulder, his brown eyes anxiously watching the prince who hastens his pace despite of the agony in his leg, never looking back.

_Please let Camelot be still standing._

_Please let Morgana and the king be safe._

_And Guinevere, and Gaius, and the people..._

Arthur keeps moving forward like in a dream, not feeling the fever raging under his brow, the fierce throbbing of the wound, his hot and heavy leg. A knot in his guts, his sweaty hand tightened on the pommel of his sword, he wears out his eyes trying to see through the vegetation, never slowing down.

The sky is blue. The sky is blue... The sky is swept with blackish traces, as if columns of smoke were slowly fading off. His heart tumbles like a stone in his chest. He hurries onwards, does not hear Gwaine calling up to him to slow down or he'll end up passing out. His blood is scorching in his veins and white flashes of pain are searing through his head.

The red and gold sun ablaze the horizon's crest when Arthur stumbles up the last hill and stands at the top, his shaky hand leaning on a tree.

His ears ring and for a moment, his whole body feels so numb it's like he is not even here. Then fatigue, the sting of the wound and fear like he has never experimented before fuse along in his spine. Nausea overwhelms him and he shivers violently.

\- "Oh no ..." breathes Gwaine who just got to the hilltop as well.

The towers of Camelot are rising in front of them on the other side of the valley, above the trees.

_In flames._

The prince keels over and his friend just manages to catch him up before he collapses.

\- "Arthur!" Merlin cries, rushing to them before he stops, petrified, his blue eyes filled with the desolation of the valley.

The path to the castle, the villages and the fields, even the bridge leading to the cover of the trees... everything is burned, destroyed, thrown to the ground and crushed like under the foot of a giant. And beyond the forest, the so beautiful white towers are blackened and broken.

Gwaine lowers Arthur to the ground.

\- "They were besieged..."

The young bearded man throws back his wavy hair and nods grimly.

\- "Who did this?" utters the prince, in a daze.

Gwaine puts his hand on his friend's shoulder and squeezes it quietly.

\- "Cenred's army, I bet... his soldiers aren't lingering around to pick up mushrooms..."

Merlin's long legs buckle under him and he sits heavily.

\- "Gaius..." he gasps.

His dark eyelashes flutter quickly, as if he's trying to hold back his tears, and he turns to his master.

\- "We must save them, Arthur..."

Gwaine is about to say "we'd need an army for that" when the prince straightens up.

\- "They may have not yet taken the citadel. The king... if the king is still fighting out there... there's still hope. Let's go."

And somehow, he gets up again and marches down to Camelot.

_And Merlin follows him without hesitation._

Gwaine contemplates them for a moment.

\- "Mad. They're mad..." he mumbles.

Then he runs to catch up with them.

Night has fallen when they reach the lower town, silent and pale.

The road is littered with corpses and the stench of death and decay is unbearable in the summer heat. There is not a single house standing in the village. Men, women, children, old folks, livestock, cats… every single life was massacred. Arthur stopped counting the knights of Camelot whom red cloaks bloom like poppies amid the overturned carts, the walls in ashes and the spilled stalls. Hay forks and swords are strewn on the road rutted by war machines, the barricades are broken and there are so many - _so many_ \- bodies everywhere. Outstretched hands, arms tight to protect babies stiffened in death, faces contorted with fear and suffering. Torn dresses and protruding arrows, frayed flags, doors slamming in the wind in the eerie silence, mud in which a crimson stream makes its way.

_It was a slaughter._

Arthur does not slow down and Gwaine wonders when he will fall, betrayed by his exhausted body. Merlin looks ghastly and his blue eyes are haunted. He grabbed the sleeve of the bearded young man when they entered the village and has not let go of it since. He walks unsteadily, his shoulders shrinking more and more with each step. Gwaine is almost glad he still feels the boy's slender fingers clutching the rough fabric of his shirt: it means he has not lost him along the way, at least it's something.

There is no-one in the streets swallowed by night and horror. No one _alive_ , that is. The drawbridge is not guarded, and they don't meet anyone as they sneak into the castle through the service quarters.

They hear songs from afar, catch glimpses of lights and shadows.

\- "The soldiers must be in the main courtyard", whispers Gwaine when Arthur stops, staggering, to listen at the end of a hallway.

\- "In the barracks and in the nobles' rooms, too, probably", the prince reckons, breathing heavily.

His face is pale, drenched in sweat. His nose is pinched, and purple shadows are smudging under his eyes.

\- "You can't go on like this", mutters Gwaine, helping him to sit on the windowsill.

\- "We must find my father", rasps Arthur, grinding his teeth against the pain. "We must find _someone_ who can tell us what happen… learn where they locked up the king. They can't have killed him yet..."

\- "The survivors must have flee to the forest, that would explain the patrol we met", Gwaine says thoughtfully.

_But how many of them? This huge army devastated the entire city, probably at the speed of lightning._

\- "They were taken by surprise", pants the prince. "But I don't understand _how_ the citadel fell so easily..."

\- "They're all gone."

Gwaine looks up at Merlin's dull voice and he realizes it's been a few minutes since he no longer felt the slight tugging on his sleeve.

The manservant takes a few steps down the hallway. He presses his forehead against a tinted window, then comes back to them and the young man is frightened by the consuming anguish in the cobalt orbs.

\- "Arthur can't go on without treatment", Merlin says in a strange empty tone. "We have to get him to Gaius."

\- "No", wheezes the prince. "We must find my father, gather information."

The moon slithers in, casting a blue sheen on Arthur's forehead beaded by the fever and the clammy hands the gawky boy clasps in front of him.

\- "I ..." begins Gwaine, just before his attention is drawn by a shadow down the hallway, dancing on the tiled floor.

He drags the prince in a corner, hissing a warning to Merlin who stumbles in hiding too.

Something falls in the dark with a shattering noise and they freeze.

The shadow stopped at the corner of the hallway.

Then, in a rustle, a hooded figure slides in their direction.

Gwaine holds his breath, his hand on his sword.

\- " _Merlin_?"

The voice is frightened, stunned, hopeful.

Arthur, who was on the verge of fainting – Gwaine's sudden move has sent a shot of excruciating pain through his injured leg - raises his head.

\- "Morgana?" he slurs.

The hood is pushed back by two delicate hands and the diamond face of the princess appears in the ethereal light of the moon, bright tears welling up in her pearl-gray eyes.

* * *

**_TBC_ **


	10. NIGHT OF DOOM

Later, Arthur will only remember snippets and will always impute it to the fever raging under his brow at the time.

Because he does not want to admit their world fell apart that night, right in front of his eyes, and that he could not do anything to prevent it.

_Starting with Morgana._

The story she gives them is inconsistent, it's the least to be said. Gwaine demonstrates unprecedented patience and manages to piece together what happened while their small group hurries towards Gaius' chambers.

Apparently, the King's illness worsened after they were gone, until he collapsed during a council and was bedridden from that moment onwards. Then everything happened very fast: Cenred's army launched their surprise attack at twilight, two days ago, and before Camelot's soldiers could understand _how,_ they were caught in between two fronts by mercenaries coming from nowhere.

The citadel fell the next day at dawn.

\- "A traitor... can't be anything else... someone must have opened the secret passage in the crypt", rasps Arthur, leaning heavily on Merlin as they go up the stairs.

Morgana lets go of a small strangled cry behind him.

\- "And Father?"

Uther has disappeared since the beginning of the attack, but in the state he was in, it can only be because _someone_ is hiding him. Probably a knight because, according to the princess, most of the advisors were executed this morning.

\- "Cenred's furious", stammers Morgana, wringing her hands. "He seeks the king everywhere. He says he cannot be proclaimed the winner of Camelot before he's seen him chained!"

The prince pauses, rubs his weary eyes, hoping to stay focused. The steps are seesawing, and he has to constantly hold back the nausea coming with the waves of pain that overwhelm him. He pushes aside Merlin and Gwaine and leans his hand against the wall to help himself stand.

\- "How is it that _you_ are _free_?" he asks harshly. "Certainly, Cenred's goal was to capture the members of the royal family..."

Morgana's pearl-gray eyes fill up with tears again and she bites her pretty lips.

\- "I ... I d-don't know", she mumbles. "I w-was ... t-they didn't find m-me ... I hid ..."

Distress contorts her porcelain face. Her dress is crinkled, long curls of black satin cascade in disorder on her shoulders and she's shuddering violently.

Arthur softens.

\- "It's all right, Morgana, I'm here ... you don't have to be afraid anymore..."

He strokes her cheek and the young woman clings to her brother's arm.

\- "You need to help me find the king", she begs in a sob. "I'm so scared of Cenred ..."

She is so beautiful, so terrified, so frail... Gwaine, who feels strangely drunk even though he didn't have a drop of alcohol _for days_ , grabs Arthur's arm and slings it over his shoulder.

\- "Come on, just one floor to go, Your Highness. The old man will scrape you up and then you can go save the world on your white horse."

\- "Arthur's horse is _brown_ ", Merlin corrects mulishly.

The servant sneaks ahead to check the way is clear and waves at them. When they step into the physician's chambers, Gwaine drops Arthur on a bench and turns around to reach out to Morgana who ignores him. With bulging eyes, she stares at the wooden panels covering one wall of the dark room.

\- "There's _something_ ", she whispers, grabbing the sleeve of Merlin who stands up in front of the prince.

Arthur is half lying on the table covered with vials of potions and the remains of a meal.

Gwaine draws his sword and approaches stealthily - except the floor is sprinkled with pieces of glass and cracks under his boots.

\- "Who's there? Show yourself!"

One of the wooden panel trembles, then is lifted up and a wrinkled face appears in the glow of the moon.

\- " _Gwaine_? What are you doing here? How ..."

His voice is slightly quavering, and his white hair is a bit messy, but he is safe and sound, and Merlin's face lights up as he runs to the old man's arms.

\- "GAIUS!"

The physician hugs him tight and kisses his black hair in both relief and fear.

\- "My boy ... you're alive... but why did you come back? It's too dangerous!"

Merlin points to the prince.

\- "Arthur is injured. He has a fever."

\- "Cenred's soldiers in the Darkling Woods", supplies Gwaine, sheathing his sword. "He never stopped trotting up since then. How did you escape the slaughter, Gaius?"

The old man does not step towards the prince, even if he glances at him worriedly. He turns back to the hideout, stops Merlin who was going back to his master.

\- "Help me, my boy, will you ... here."

They dive into the alcove, and when they straighten up, Morgana squeals, short of breath.

\- "Father!"

Arthur awakes at her cry and hope rekindles in his eyes, even if he does not have the strength to get up from the bench.

\- "I never thought this old hiding place from the Great Purge would one day save the king himself", the physician sighs with a hint of black humor.

Gwaine helps the young servant who staggers under the weight of Uther. The monarch is deadly pale. Thick, purplish veins streak his dry skin and his eyes are tightly closed. His body is cold, limp, and his breathing barely noticeable.

\- "He's very ill", Gaius explains as they put their cargo on the cot in the middle of the room. "I was able to hide him here with the help of Sir Leon and Guinevere, but I haven't' seen these two since then..."

He fumbles in the boxes on the shelves, looking for what he needs in order to treat Arthur. Morgana lights a candle, but Gwaine extinguishes it at once: someone could see the glow through the window overlooking the courtyard.

\- "Can you heal him?" Arthur gasps, stifling his moans while the old man unwraps the bandage on his thigh and probes at the injury.

\- "Not until I know what _poisoned_ him", Gaius replies darkly, his old fingers working precisely to disinfect the wound. "We were trapped. This attack was planned for months and someone _inside_ the castle worked on weakening the king's health long before the army marched onto Camelot."

\- "Impossible", pants the prince, whose nails are digging into Merlin's arm.

The servant grits his teeth but does not move.

\- "The wound is infected, Sire", the physician finally says.

\- "I know," groans Arthur, who's on the verge of fainting, the wings of his nose pinched by pain. "Just give me something to keep going."

Gwaine opens his mouth to protest, then closes it without a word. His fist clenches on the hilt of his sword while Gaius gives the patient a small blue vial.

Morgana comes to her brother, her silver eyes staring intensely at their father.

\- "What will you do, Arthur?" she asks.

The prince greedily swallows the water Merlin gives him before answering slowly.

The fever shakes his shoulders and sweat glues his hair on his forehead as if he'd flipped a bucket full of water over his head.

\- " We need to get the king out of Camelot", he says hoarsely. "We have allies and this is the time to call upon their friendship. If we could reach the border of Nemeth, for example, we'd be safe and King Rodor is no man to ignore the distress of his neighbor."

\- "But Cenred's men are too many!" the princess frets. "We'll never be able to leave the castle without being caught!"

\- "I think I can guide us", Gaius says slowly. "I know every single cranny in the castle."

\- "What if someone recognizes the king? Cenred will send his dogs on us."

\- "Why don't we disguise him?" Merlin offers.

Morgana looks at him as if he had just grown two heads, but Arthur, who feels already much better, dimples up.

\- "That might just work."

The lanky boy proudly straightens.

\- "We could dress him as a woman!" he suggests excitedly.

Arthur pulls a face.

\- "That, on the other hand... "

Gwaine giggles.

\- "Maybe we should all dress up as women! This is the plan of the century, Merlin."

\- "Gwaine, _shut up_ ", cuts in the prince who stands up and tests the strength of his injured leg.

_Fine, Gaius' draught has mostly numbed the pain._

He looks grimly at his small team whose gazes are gleaming in the blue darkness of the room.

\- "Here's how we will proceed: Merlin and Morgana, you'll go first. Merlin, you know the castle like the back of your hand, I want you to get us out through the most inconspicuous places you know."

He unbuckles the dagger hanging from his belt and hands it to her sister.

\- "Morgana, you're a good fencer, I count on you to take down any danger coming our way."

Gwaine's eyes widen: _Arthur counts on this fragile flower to open the way? Surely the whimpering and lovely princess is not the best choice for this…_

He has no time to protest, however, because the prince continues to distribute his instructions.

\- "Gaius, you follow them. Take with you as many things as you can stuff in your medicine box, I don't know when we'll again be able to give my father the care he requires."

\- "And your leg too", Merlin interrupts quickly, with a raised eyebrow worthy of his grandfather's.

\- "I take it you and I will carry the king?" Gwaine says. "What an honor."

\- " _You_ will", correct Arthur. "I'll watch our backs. Oh, and you will do so with the utmost respect due to royal blood."

Gwaine's eyebrows bounce grudgingly, but it is with care that he puts the monarch over his shoulder like a sack of golden potatoes.

\- "Wow. He's _heavy_!"

Arthur's eyes blaze and the bearded young man shuts up before getting into more trouble.

The night is warm in the dimly lit hallway. Down in the courtyard, the soldiers, wrapped in their cloaks, are deep asleep, like if the cobblestones were the best mattress in the world. The embers glow in the braziers scattered between the rows.

Everything is quiet.

 _A little_ too _quiet, actually._

Despite the fever smog obscuring part of his brain, Arthur keeps trying to understand as they progress in the corridors. Gaius' miracle potion perhaps allows him to stand without pain, but it does not help him to think clearly.

_Why has Cenred stopped looking for the king? Does he believe him already out of the walls?_

_Where are Sir Leon and Guinevere?_

_What happened to the servants, the peasants, the people who survived? Where have they gone? What has been done with the captives?_

_Why is it nobody's trying to find Morgana?_

_How did she escape the fury of the soldiers?_

_And how come they could so easily sneak into the citadel? Why is there nobody guarding the way to the drawbridge?_

Arthur doubts they made it because of mere luck.

_And besides, if luck it was, well, they just ran out of it._

They are almost at the end of the hallway, at the top of the stairs leading down to the service quarters when the stone arches usually teeming with servants suddenly lit up. A group is coming in their direction and these heavy steps do not belong to fugitives.

Arthur sees from afar Morgana and Merlin rushing into a room. He leads Gaius to the nearest chamber and barricades the door after Gwaine followed him with his royal cargo.

The bearded young man drops the king on an unmade bed, in what appears to be a servant's room.

\- "What do we do now?" he asks in a low voice.

\- "We wait", hisses Arthur, his ear pressed against the door.

_Walking, walking, walking... slowing down. Stopping. Muffled voices. Leaving... no, staying._

He winces.

\- "Your Majesty?" says quietly Gaius, leaning over Uther.

The prince immediately abandons his monitoring of the door and rushes to the bed.

\- "Father?"

\- "Art'r ..." the King slurs. "We … were…betrayed ..."

The prince kneels at his side, deliberately ignoring the pinching pain in his leg.

\- "I know. Morgana told me... we'll get out, gather an army and..."

Uther's hand weakly calls for silence. His eyes are glassy and unfocused.

\- "Morgause ..."

Arthur frowns and his jaw hardens.

\- "What do you mean?"

The king coughs and almost chokes. Gaius wipes his mouth with a cloth, while the young man grabs the hands of his father and squeezes them.

\- "Father. What do you mean? Why are you talking about Morgause? What does she have to do with Cenred? I don't understand!"

He raised his voice to a shrill, despite himself. Gwaine frantically waves him to be quiet from the door against which he's leaning to hear what is going on in the hallway.

The king's face contorts with grief.

\- "I didn't want… to believe ... but she's the one who..." he murmurs before sinking back into unconsciousness.

Arthur looks up to Gaius, distraught.

\- "What does it mean? You know something, don't you? _Speak_!" he orders.

The old man shakes his head.

\- "Alas, Sire, I don't know... this is the first time the king regains consciousness since Sir Leon and Guinevere brought him to me. The citadel was about to fall, and I was in the infirmary at the time ..."

\- "Now _where_ are these two?" scolds the prince, getting a second glare from Gwaine whose lips silently articulate "shut-up-your-high-ness."

Gaius takes the king's pulse, then puts the limp hand back on the bed with a sigh.

\- "I don't know", he repeats wearily. "I really - _really_ \- hope they have not been captured. Sir Leon knew something about the traitor, I'm sure. He's not one to leave the battle… if he was running up and about in the castle in secret while the war raged on, it must be that he had a purpose."

Arthur gets up painfully and sits on the edge of the bed. He chews his leather glove, desperately thinking.

\- "We need to find them."

His eyes roam the room quickly. He gets up, goes to the window to have a look at the outside, then comes back to the bed.

\- "Gaius, you'll stay here with my father. Don't open to anyone. Gwaine and I will go down to the armory. There's a secret passage behind the larger decorative shield, leading to the lower town. We used to play there, Leon and I, when we were kids. If he found refuge somewhere, it will be there. And he might have been able to gather a few men who can help us."

Gwaine approaches stealthily.

\- "What about Merlin?"

Arthur swallows.

\- "He's with Morgana, they'll protect each other. They're in a room down the hallway and I don't think the soldiers have seen them. As long as they keep quiet, they will be safe. We'll pick them up after we've check the armory."

Gaius arches one of his bushy eyebrows.

\- "And how will you get to the armory? Cenred's soldiers are at the door, so to speak."

Arthur hobbles to the window.

\- "That way. We're only on the first floor, and there's a pile of hay just below in the small courtyard."

\- "And to come back?"

\- "We'll give you a sign from the stables. Cut the blanket up. Make some rope. We'll lower the king down and help you get out."

Gwaine chuckles quietly.

\- "That's the kind of plans I like."

Gaius grimaces, however.

\- "Sire, this potion I gave you ... The effect is instant, but I cannot guarantee how long it'll last. As for imposing such exertions on your injured leg, I do not dare to imagine what would be the consequences ..."

\- "We're at war, Gaius", Arthur replies simply.

The moon hides behind the clouds and the night feels colder.

There are only a few hours before dawn.

oOoOoOo

They slam the door behind them and lean against it, panting, their fingers intertwined in their fright.

Their hearts beat wildly. Morgana's heady perfume mingles with Merlin's scent of sweat and they feel faint in the stifling darkness of the room.

\- "They haven't seen us..." finally whispers the young woman, removing her delicate hand from the calloused palm of the servant.

\- "And Arthur?" worries immediately the boy, ready to go back to the hallway.

\- "They must have found someplace to hide", ensures Morgana whose voice strengthened up a bit. "Listen, there's no sound. If the soldiers had found them, we'd hear swords."

Merlin nods and looks around.

They are in the room reserved to the Steward of the castle. There is a bed behind the thick curtain, books on the shelves, chests containing the fine silver, embroidered towels and a huge stack of registers on the desk, beside an inkwell and an elegant quill.

The servant goes to the window, scans the courtyard bathed in spectral clarity, and suddenly startles.

\- "Oh!"

Morgana runs at him in a rustling of her emerald velvet dress.

\- "What is it?"

Merlin points at the woman who is strolling through the courtyard, surrounded by half a dozen guards in black and red uniforms awakening the sleepers with kicks in the ribs.

\- "It's the blonde lady", he whispers. "She's mean."

Morgana stamps her little boot impatiently.

\- "She's not _mean_ , Merlin. Why do you keep saying that?"

The servant turns to her, incredulous.

\- "Have you seen her eyes, my lady? They're cold like those of a snake! And she's talking to Cenred's soldiers! They are our _enemies_."

Morgana's face falls and for a moment, anger and fear compete on her perfect features.

\- " _Cenred_ is cruel", she finally blurts out. "But Morgause would never hurt anyone. She didn't want all these deaths, I'm sure. It's Gaius's fault! If he had not hidden the king, everything would have been over much earlier!"

Merlin takes a step back and his blue eyes behold the young woman with confusion.

\- "Gaius _saved_ the king", he whispers. "Your father."

A flash of anger flashes in the pearl-gray eyes.

\- "Don't use that word! I do not consider him my father anymore! He lied to me and he drove my mother to her death!"

Her lips purse and she seems to realize whom she's talking to. She shivers, her pale cheeks relent, and she reaches for the boy.

\- "I'm sorry, Merlin", she coaxes. "I shouldn't have yelled. I'm tired and the night is endless."

The gawky boy tilts his head to the side and wrinkles his nose.

\- "Morgause is good and the king is no longer your father?" he repeats slowly. "It's... odd."

\- "It's not odd", immediately protests Morgana with a wheedling smile. "No way! Look, Merlin. Stay here, will you? I'll go see if I can find Arthur."

Her velvet sleeve brushes the servant's neck when she strokes his cheek.

\- "Stay put. You're safe, here."

Merlin shakes his head fiercely.

\- "You can't go out! The soldiers will catch you!"

\- "Morgause won't let them hurt me", promises Morgana. "Listen to me carefully. Everything will be fine. I'll get Arthur and Gaius. Soon we will be happy, you'll see. You won't have to worry about the king firing you, I'll ask Morgause so Arthur can keep you, okay? We won't be alone and never ever again we'll have to put up with this horrible man."

Merlin pushes away the fingers playing with his black hair and steps back.

\- "The king wants to fire me?" he breathes.

Morgana gives him a smile of pity.

\- "Oh, poor Merlin... you didn't know? Arthur must have forgotten to tell you... but it doesn't matter, now. Morgause will save us all."

She shivers in spite of herself, because she keeps saying this phrase as a talisman since the day before, but somehow, she believes in it less and less.

She needs to return to her half-sister, to hear the sweet silky voice which ensured Cenred would never hurt them, that the people would soon forget the nightmare, and Camelot would be prosperous and they would never be separated again.

Morgause is right.

_Uther must suffer to pay for Ygraine's death._

_But Arthur will understand, won't he?_

Morgana is terrified since she saw how Cenred spoke to his troops in the throne room, while she remained hidden behind the curtain to play her role.

_Everything seemed so normal, so logical, so far._

The distilled poison in the cup she offered every evening to Uther, the king paying for the suffering he inflicted to so many people with his screaming in terror during his nightmares, unlocking the crypt to let in the soldiers in order "to avoid a bloodbath" as said Morgause, the lies spouted to Arthur to get his help in finding their father because Sir Leon, this fool, had spirited the king away during the battle...

_Morgause is right._

_Morgause is right and she will not let Cenred hurt Arthur or Guinevere._

Morgana puts her fingers on the door that protects them from the brutes and draws in a shaky breath.

_So why is Guinevere no where to be found? Before the siege, Morgana told her, though, that she had nothing to fear..._

_Has Cenred killed her?_

_Has Guinevere betrayed her?_

Morgause told her to be wary of everybody, that people would not right away understand that the kingdom would be in much better hands, that they would stupidly try to protect their king because they don't know how dark is Uther's heart...

Merlin's hand touches hers and she jumps, lifts her tearful eyes to him.

He shakes his head and she is almost stunned by the depth of the cobalt orbs. As if Merlin knew, as if he sensed her dilemma, her doubts, as if he was already crying on the decision she will make.

\- "Don't trust the blonde lady", he whispers. "She's bad."

Morgana stares furiously through the glistening drops clinging to her long lashes.

\- "She's my sister", she hisses. "She understands me. And her mother died like mine because of our father. Morgause knows how I feel and she's _the only one_!"

_Oh, these unfathomable eyes gazing at her, so sincere, so pure... telling her she's wrong._

\- "And Arthur?" simply asks Merlin. "He loves you, too."

Morgana's throat tightens.

She is so afraid that Arthur would not understand.

Morgause said the prince would have _no choice_ but to see and accept... that she would _make him_ understand...

She sniffs and wipes her face with the back of her hand, angrily. Then she picks up the fold of her dress and haughtily dismisses the boy.

\- "You're only an _idiot_ and a _serving boy_ , Merlin", she says, raising her chin, her lips pursed. "That's why you don't know better. Let me out now."

She turns the latch and opens the door, but he grabs her wrist and holds her back.

\- "Let me go", utters the princess sharply.

\- "No", says Merlin.

His eyes are filling up with tears and she does not know if it's because of the words she has just said or because he can not make her change her mind.

Morgana sighs.

_I'm sorry, Merlin. You leave me no choice._

She raises her hand and swiftly strikes the neck of the lanky boy.

He collapses silently and she goes out without looking back.

Morgause is just down the stairs, asking about the commotion she saw from the throne room on the other side of the courtyard. She is quite pleased to learn Arthur and the King are in the building, trapped in one of the rooms.

\- "You did well, Morgana", she praises with an affectionate smile.

Morgana smiles back after looking at the soldiers around her with a frightened glance.

\- "Nothing will happen to Arthur, isn't it?" she asks in a small voice. "You promised Uther would be the only one to die."

She shivers unconsciously, because a part of herself, buried deep, is repulsive to the idea of parricide. She was fine poisoning the king because she knew she would only kill his mind, but she is not yet ready to see the stiff, cold body of her father lying on the cobblestones of the court as the hundreds of dead soldiers evacuated from the castle today.

Morgause smiles again.

\- "Arthur will have the right to go wherever he wants", she says sweetly.

Morgana nods.

\- "There's a small problem", she adds timidly. "Arthur's manservant, Merlin. He doesn't like you, sister. If he talks to Arthur, he will convince him you're not someone to trust..."

Morgause slides her fingers in her long golden hair.

\- "And where is that servant now?" she asks in an almost distracted tone.

\- "In the Steward's chambers", replies the princess. "I knocked him off, just like you taught me. What will you do with him? Arthur's strangely fond of him. If something was to happen to him... my brother would be very upset."

Morgause caresses the dark curls of the young woman.

\- "Well, then we need to ensure this young man changes his mind", she says softly.

The two women go up the stairs side by side, one dressed in her mail coat on which trickles down her blonde hair, the other lithe in her emerald velvet dress.

When they enter the room, Morgause frowns.

\- "Where is he?" she asks, a little annoyed.

Morgana looks everywhere, surprised.

\- "I must not have hit him hard enough", she whimpers. "Oh, I hope he didn't go to A'..."

The words choke in her throat as Merlin bangs a huge book bound in steel fasteners on the head of her sister who collapses without a sound.

\- "What did you do?" Morgana cries in horror, throwing her dagger aside to kneel near the unconscious blonde woman.

\- "She's bad and you should stop believing her", the boy babbles hurriedly. "Lady Morgana, she'll hurt you! She's here only to cause Camelot's loss. Come with me, please. We have to run away very far with Arthur and the king and to save the people from Cenred and ... "

Morgana looks up and her silver irises sparkle with fury.

\- "You should _not_ have done that!"

\- "I'm _sorry_ ", Merlin stammers, crouching beside her. "I'm really sorry, I don't wish you to be sad, but ... _please_ ..."

He reaches for the delicate wrist of the young woman, clearly wanting to lead her out of the room, but she pushes him away, her face contorted with hatred.

\- "Leave me alone", she lashes at him through grinded teeth.

\- "Lady Morgana ..."

\- "LEAVE ME!"

He loses his balance and falls on his buttock, his wounded and sad blue eyes still staring at her, and Morgana seethes with rage at this obstinacy.

She casts a glance around, looking for something to throw at him to make him leave, finds nothing. Her dagger is too far away, near the door.

\- " _Get out_ ", she hisses.

Merlin hesitates and in that short second, Morgause opens her eyelids.

\- "What happened?" she mutters, bringing her hand to her head.

Morgana helps her to get up, supports her to the desk and helps her sit in the chair. The servant has backed to the door, but he did not get out, mesmerized by the blonde woman.

\- "Merlin hit you with a book", says Morgana irritably.

\- "Oh. Has he, now?" Morgause chuckles with a slight grimace when she touches the tender spot at the back of her head. "And this big pole that looks at me with eel eyes, is also Merlin?"

\- "Yes", says the young brunette. "He doesn't have much brains and unfortunately it seems not possible to change his mind when he's got it set on something!"

She quickly picks up the inkwell and throws it at the lanky boy.

\- "Go away, Merlin!" she screams.

He does not have time to step away and the box opens when it hits him: ink splatters on the red tunic of the manservant, splashing his neck and sleeves and soaking the rough fabric with a viscous black shadow.

\- "Don't get upset, Morgana", Morgause protests, cocking her head in amusement. "Merlin? Come here. Come on, don't be afraid."

The gangly boy clenches his fists and does not move an inch.

\- "I'm not afraid", he retorts, lifting his jaw defiantly.

His left eyebrow twitches, though, and the tip of his ears turns pink in the dark. Morgana lights a candle and places it on the desk next to her sister.

The dim light casts a ghoulish shadow on Morgause's aristocratic face.

\- "Come on, Merlin..." she repeats softly.

_Kindly._

_Innocently._

The servant makes just one step forward.

\- "You need to leave", he says in a slightly shrill voice. "You and Cenred too. And all the soldiers."

Morgause giggles.

\- "Oh. And why?"

Merlin's cheeks look hollow in the candlelight. He makes one more step. His sweaty fingers are fiddling with his wet tunic and the smell of ink makes him feel a little giddy.

\- "This is Arthur's kingdom. Camelot is his home. You don't have the right to take it. You killed children and lots of people. You must leave. _Please_."

Morgause blinks, her icy smile curling up her scarlet lips, showing her white teeth.

\- "I understand", she says in an unctuous tone. "Morgana, you understand too, don't you?"

The brunette shakes her head.

\- "No", she groans.

Morgause chuckles, a sound so crystalline and so cold the night suddenly seems to lose all heat.

She gets up in a rattling of steel and pushes back her long golden hair. Her hand casually resting on the hilt of her sword, she slowly comes close to Merlin.

\- "I don't know if you're very brave or incredibly stupid, young man", she whispers. "But you're wrong if you think you can stop me from achieving my plans."

For a moment, Merlin does not breathe, convinced she will kill him on the spot. But then she smiles.

\- "Let's go, Morgana", she says quietly, leaving the room.

The princess follows her after casting a look of defiance to the servant who remained rooted to the spot.

Merlin feels his chest, head, legs, a little stunned to be alive, then he turns around, remembering the need to warn Arthur about Morgana being under the spell of the dangerous blonde lady.

_Arthur must be ..._

\- "... in one of these rooms. Find him and you will also find the king. If he resists, you can use your swords."

\- "Morgause, no!" exclaims Morgana in the hallway.

\- "Enough, my dear sister", snaps the blonde lady in a voice that could almost pass for caring if it was not accompanied by a flare of anger in the pale eyes of the woman. "I thought it was clear. If that idiot of a manservant is this stubborn, Arthur will be too, of course. It is time to stop believing the prince will understand our intentions."

\- "But you said ..."

\- "I said we would leave him a choice, and we will, Morgana. All he has to do is surrender without a fight, for now."

Merlin looks at the door, in a daze. His eyes fall on the dagger that the moon hems with a glint of blue.

_Arthur._

_Arthur is in danger._

He bends down, picks up the dagger and takes it out of the sheath.

_To protect Arthur, he would do anything._

His slender fingers wrap around the hilt with resolution and he slips into the hallway.

Morgause is busy giving orders to the soldiers, Morgana is a few steps away from her, her eyebrows arched as she intensely ponders if her sister was right or not.

Merlin sneaks up behind her with the dagger.

_He is going to grab her, to make Morgause believe he'll kill her if Cenred's army does not leave the castle immediately and everyone will be saved. The king will be so happy that he won't fire him and Morgana will not even be hurt. And no doubt, as soon as she is no longer under the negative influence of the blonde lady, she will be back to the nice princess everyone loves._

Morgause feels the threat even before seeing the movement in the corner of her eye.

A smile twists up the corner of her mouth.

_Perfect, just what she needed to finish convincing Morgana. She was right to let this idiot alive ... she thought she'd use him to put pressure on Arthur, but ultimately, with this stroke of luck, the plan will certainly jump to the part where there is no more prince between her and the throne._

Her eyes widen with ingenuous horror and she yells:

\- "Morgana! Watch out!"

The young princess jumps, turns and her horrified look meets Merlin's raised arm.

The moon glides over the knife blade with a grisly gleam.

_Oh_ _, Merlin. WHY?_

The cobalt orbs avoid, guilty, the gray pearls.

The next second, the flail of one of the soldiers hits Merlin's chest at full force and sends him crashing down the stairs that go to the kitchen. The lean body of the manservant tumbles down the steps like a puppet and collapses on the tiles, motionless.

* * *

_**TBC** _


	11. STILL STANDING AT THE END OF TIMES

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, it's not the end, indeed. Far from it.  
> There are 38 chapters to this story, just to let you know.  
> (They are all written and just need some polishing before going up).

They flee.

Dawn hems the crest of the blue mountains with a thin silver of light and the fleecy sky dampens in shades of pink like a watercolor paint. Long golden filaments string over the valley filled with a greyish mist. In the distance jingle the bells of a herd of cows. A fox barks in the darkness of the forest. Another answers his call. Two birds fly across the vast brightness, chirping happily. Dew beads pearl down in shining drops on the fragranced green grass. Everything is peaceful.

They flee.

A few haggard people with torn clothes and soiled armors, stumbling with fatigue and grief in the dark woods. They hurry silently between the moss covered stumps in a rustle of leaves and the clatter of their mail coats. Their legs are heavy, their shoulders slumped, their faces tensed. No one is after them – _not yet_ – but they do not stop, they can not, they _should not._ The blackened towers of Camelot fade behind them, through the trees.

They flee.

Gwaine and Sir Leon are helping Arthur, one on each side, his arms around their necks, their hands gripping his belt. He moves forward, dragging his injured leg in the black soil of the undergrowth, his chin dropped on his chest, barely conscious. He no longer feels the pain. His ears are buzzing, as if the last hours of the night kept replaying behind his half-lowered eyelids.

Things were taking a favorable turn for them, at first. The two men had no problem getting to the abandoned armory. Behind the biggest shield, when Arthur tapped the old code of his childhood on the small wooden door, Sir Leon's curly blond head appeared, followed by the young woman with hazel eyes whose face lit up when she saw them. The prince quickly explained his plan to get the king out of the castle, but when he mentioned Morgana, the knight's eyes narrowed, and Guinevere bit her lips.

\- "Oh, sire, I _should've_ seen it coming", the girl cried, twisting her apron. "I still can't believe it, but it was _her_ who poisoned the king and when she told me before the attack I would be safe and sound if I stayed close to her, I'... it was too late ... I'm _so sorry_... "

\- "The princess is not our ally", Sir Leon says dourly. "She betrayed us all. Hundreds of lives were lost because she opened the crypt to let in the soldiers of Cenred."

Arthur did not believe it, of course. He attributed it to the fact they were confined in the poorly ventilated secret passage or to possible head injuries they might have suffered. But before they could insist Gwaine came back from his lookout post at the door of the armory, saying there was something in the courtyard that the prince _had_ to see.

They snuck through the service quarters and hid in the cloister opening onto the main courtyard, in front of the great white stairs.

The round and full moon was shrouding the cobblestones in ghostly blue.

_And maybe all of this was only an illusion ..._

Arthur felt his heart sinking when he saw them.

Morgause and Morgana, standing among fifty soldiers of Cenred who _were not making any move to attack them_ , were discussing _his_ fate. The silver eyes of his fragile little sister were blazing, and she was trembling with rage.

Then the feeling of falling, falling without any hope of being caught, intensified.

Cenred was coming to the two women, going down the grand stairs in a careless jog, his small black eyes gloating. He kissed the hand of Morgause who let him do so with barely concealed condescension.

Then two mercenaries brought out Uther Pendragon whose legs were dragging and head hanging limply between them. They threw him to the ground, emptied a bucket of water on him, and when he moved slightly, they brutally straightened him up and forced him to face Cenred.

But the king was looking at Morgana, only at Morgana, without a word.

Morgause smiled, her white teeth gleaming in the pale light of the moon.

\- "Father", she said in her smooth voice. "Here you are at last. I thought I would never have the pleasure to introduce you to my husband, King Cenred."

The man dressed in a black armor guffawed smugly, his hands on his hips, and his soldiers joined him.

Arthur, petrified with horror, stared at Morgana who did not say a word, her delicate lips curled in a cruel pout.

Uther was crying.

After that, the prince does not really recall what happened. He remembers confusedly Sir Leon leading him back to the armory, Gwaine telling the knight he would go find out what had happened to Merlin and Gaius.

He can recollect waiting in the secret passage where the air is rare, loaded with coal dust and the smell of silt. Guinevere is there with him. From time to time, she squeezes his hand and she repeats that everything will be fine in a small choked voice.

Then whispers and fleeting lights, Sir Leon helping the court physician to go through the narrow opening.

\- "Morgause did not spare me a look. She must have thought the soldier had put me down for good. But more is needed to defeat a tough old fellow like me", mutters Gaius, re-arranging his rumpled robes with a dignified gesture, before leaning over the prince and checking his wound.

\- "How is he?" asks the knight anxiously. "He hasn't said a word since ... and his eyes are empty."

The question he does not say aloud is: "Was he broken by what we saw?"

The old man shakes his head. There is clotted blood on his wrinkled forehead, where the soldier hit him with the flat of his sword.

\- "The draught I gave him has worn off", he reassures them.

Guinevere heaves a sigh of relief, then her face furrows again, troubled.

\- "Where's Merlin?"

\- "Gwaine's still looking for him" answers Sir Leon, preoccupied. "We should go. The longer we stay, the more likely we are to be discovered. Dawn is nearing. We should take advantage of darkness..."

Arthur tries to raise his hands in the fog filling his head. His arm is too weak, as if his brains were no longer connected to his muscles.

\- "M'rlin ... not ... no ... w'thout ... 'lin ..."

He hurts, he feels sick, he keeps shuddering. The pale face of his father, with tears running down his nose, haunts him. And when he pushes the picture to the bottom of his mind, it is the pain in his thigh that takes over, scouring in his flesh like a white-hot blade.

He wants to shout: " _Mer_ lin! Where were you? Get your bony bottom over here at this moment!" as he does when his manservant arrives with breakfast an hour late on a hunting day… but all that comes out of his mouth is a pitiful gurgling.

_Merlin._

_Please may nothing have happened to Merlin._

He will not leave him behind.

_Camelot was taken from him, he had to abandon his father into the clutches of Cenred and Morgause, he witnessed Morgana lose her soul ..._

_But they will not go without Merlin._

The code raps against the wooden door and Sir Leon draws his sword while Guinevere turns the key in the old lock.

\- "I found him!" Gwaine exclaims quietly as soon as they open. "He's a bit drowsy, but otherwise fine."

He helps the boy climb in and Sir Leon catches the servant on the other side.

\- "My boy!" cries Gaius, rushing towards him and checking him for injuries as much as he can in the light of the torch Guinevere is holding. "You okay? You're not hurt? But ... what ... why, you're covered with ink!"

Merlin sways a little, then grins to his grandfather. Besides his wet and viscous tunic and some scratches on his face, he seems unscathed.

\- "Apparently this _woman_ ... uh, Morgause, right? She threw him down the stairs", tells Gwaine with a retrospective angry growl. Then his expression softens, and he smiles, ruffling the dark hair of the boy. "But our Merlin is so used to tumble down the steps with the armor of his Highness that it didn't affect him much!"

Gaius frowns. He would like to have a better look at his grandson, to understand why he holds his body in a strange way, with one shoulder higher than the other. It is dark in the secret passage and all that ink does not help.

\- "Let's go", presses Sir Leon. "We will rest and look after our wounds when we are far enough from Camelot."

\- "Where will we go?" asks Guinevere, still holding the torch while Gwaine hoists the prince on his feet.

\- "To Nemeth", briefly replies the knight.

Dawn is nearing when they push the rusty gate closing the entrance to the underground secret passage, in the vault with the stone walls covered with moss. Guinevere is the only one to give a long look to the castle through the trees, before lifting her skirts and following the men who are diving into the forest.

They move fast enough in the beginning, even if Gwaine and Sir Leon have to half carry Arthur who lets out groans of pain and curses every time his injured leg gets caught in a root. He has bitten his lips to blood and his fever keeps rising.

Gaius can barely keep up with the pace. He's visibly exhausted, gasping and frowning, pushing his paunchy old body beyond its limits: it's been an awfully long time since he last went to pick up his herbs himself and even walking up to the royal chambers usually leaves him of breath.

Guinevere offered him her shoulder but seeing as she stumbles all the time on her dress, he fears she'll make him fall and refused.

Merlin is the last of the column. He's staggering, eyes half-closed. He has not yet stepped in a rabbit hole, it's a miracle. His right hand is clutching his chest, his ink-stained fingers digging into the folds of his tunic.

When Sir Leon decides it is time to take a break, in a clearing by a small creek, the sun is high in the sky. It must be noon and Gwaine's stomach rumbles. He helps the knight to lower Arthur at the foot of a tree, then he goes in search of food.

Guinevere knelt by the stream. She drank long and now she's washing her face and arms. The fresh water is a relief after that horrible night and a small smile wanders on her lips as she twists her long curly hair into a bun and sticks a twig in it.

\- "Don't drink too much, however", warns Sir Leon, filling up their only water skin. "You'd be sick."

He gets up and goes back to Arthur, helps him swallow a few sips. Gaius heavily knelt beside the prince and is now checking the wound.

As feared, the infection progressed.

\- "If we don't find quickly a place where he can rest properly and receive the necessary care, he risks losing his leg", whispers the old man.

_Or he could die even before that._

Sir Leon runs his glove in his blond curls, overwhelmed. His brassy beard has grown on his cheeks and hides his freckles. His armor is dented, stained with traces of mud and smoke, his long red cloak torn up.

Apart Gaius, he is the eldest of their troop. The most experienced, too. It is _his_ _duty_ to lead them to safety, until the prince is able to take command again.

The knight rubs his tired eyes and holds back the urge to lie down on the carpet of leaves and moss. He must stand firm and protect them five.

_Well, them four. Gwaine can probably fend for himself, actually._

Sir Leon forces himself to stand up and he pulls the makeshift map from his belt to study it before they get moving again.

\- "Where's Merlin?" asks the physician when he is done cleaning Arthur's wound and has bandaged it with a piece of Guinevere's petticoat. The young woman dabs the prince's forehead with her handkerchief soaked in the stream.

The knight looks up from the coal squiggles he's making on his piece of parchment to determine the safest route away from the main roads. He casts a glance around, surprised.

\- "Isn't he with Gwaine?"

Obviously not, since the bearded young man is coming back, whistling, a harvest of berries cradled in his tunic.

Gaius raises his eyebrow with annoyance.

\- "Merlin!" he calls out. "Merlin, where are you, my boy?"

Guinevere smiles and yawns.

\- "He's probably asleep somewhere around. He was so tired he could barely stand."

Gwaine drops next to Arthur who's dozing against the tree trunk.

\- "What's the matter?" he asks. "I found these, Gaius, do you think they're edible? Last time I ate berries without checking first, I had terrible diarrhea. It was _awful_. I don't want to go through that again, much less give Percival's an opportunity to laugh at my expense."

\- "To heck with your diarrhea", grunts Gaius. "Merlin is no where to be found."

Guinevere puts her hand on his arm.

\- "Stay with Arthur. I'll go find him", she says gently.

But she does not need to because at the same time a mop of black hair suddenly pops up from behind a tree stump, a few yards away in the slope. A cloud of dead leaves scatter all over and blue eyes frantically flash in all directions:

\- " _Arthur?_!"

\- "Here he is", the young woman giggles fondly.

Sir Leon smiles and goes back to his map. Gwaine relaxes and picks a berry in his loot, that he carefully studies before gobbling it down. The prince did not even flinch during the commotion.

Gaius crosses his arms, sitting more comfortably, and his eyebrows meet in the middle crease of his forehead.

\- "Come here, my boy", he scolds. "What were you doing, really?"

Merlin pushes himself up with the help of the stump. He looks lost and his dark eyelashes flutter as if he had trouble keeping his eyes open.

\- "I ... I was... uh ... I ..."

\- "You were snoozing, innit?" chuckles Gwaine who is now eating his fourth berry without any negative effects on his insides. "No shame to feel. I'd have taken a nap too, if I hadn't been so famished..."

Guinevere accepts a handful of blackberries and goes to wash it in the creek. Merlin comes to them, slightly wobbling, and slumps against the tree, next to Arthur whom he eyes anxiously.

\- "Is he all right?"

Gaius ignores the question.

He does not like the clammy pallor of his grandson, his dark circles, the violet halo digging in the contours of his nose and the hollow shadows in his cheeks, the tinted blue color of his lips nor the strange hissing sound underlining his speech.

\- "You look terrible. Let me have a proper look at you."

\- "I'm fine", protests Merlin, pecking a berry from Gwaine's tunic. "Arthur's the one who needs care."

\- "Yes, yes, of course", grumbles the old man, trying to clean the slender neck of the boy with the edge of his sleeve. "Don't eat this. How did you get yourself so filthy? You look like a pit worker."

The ink does not wear off easily, but Gaius keeps trying, until his fingers accidentally brush the servant's shirt.

\- "How comes you're not yet dried in this heat?"

He frowns, grabs his grandson's hands and blanches.

\- "Your hands are freezing!" he gasps, alarmed.

He turns to Gwaine so fast and with such an angry face that the man gulps a blueberry in shock and nearly chokes.

\- "Are you _sure_ he wasn't hurt?"

\- "W-what's that? Uh, yes ..." fidgets the bearded young man. "I mean... He _looked_ fine, said he _felt_ fine ... I didn't really have time to check with Cenred's soldiers ready to score on us any time."

Guinevere is approaching.

\- "Now, now, he's fine, Gaius", she soothes. "Aren't you, Merlin? He never stopped walking since this morning! If he had been hurt falling down the stairs, we'd have noticed now."

Merlin nods strongly but then he winces involuntarily.

The old man groans something inaudible and seeks his glasses in the deep pocket of his robes.

\- "Now, human brains are very peculiar", he says in a scholarly tone. "For example, the fact that Arthur could walk _leagues_ with an injury like his can only be explained because he had _no other idea_ than to get to Camelot as fast as he could, at that time. His mind was focused on that only and his body forgot he was not even _supposed_ to be able to move."

He finds his glasses, looks through them in the light and tuts, then cleanses them thoroughly on a fold of his sleeve.

\- "Merlin's just the same, except on more a regular basis. His drive is Arthur's well-being, he could go to work _dead_ and not even notice it. Add to this that his condition often prevents him from making a distinction between reality and what he's told or puts his mind into..."

He snorts, cups in his gnarled hand the angular chin of his grandson and forces him to look at him in the eyes.

\- "Now, my boy, tell me. Did you _fell_ _asleep_ behind this tree stump, or did you _pass out_?"

Merlin's pupils go rounder and elude. He blinks and rubs his eyes with his fist. Not even noticing, he comes closer to Arthur, as if the contact of the prince's shoulder made him feel better.

\- "I don't know... I'm fine ..."

Gwaine and Guinevere stopped eating their berries and are watching him so seriously he's feeling queasy.

\- "Did you feel like ' _oh I'm so tired and everyone is taking good care of the prince so I can close my eyes for a moment and lay on the nice comfy leaves_ ' or did you have some nausea and found yourself kissing the ground without knowing how?" Gaius rephrases patiently.

\- "I don't know ..." repeats Merlin and the hissing sound intensifies when his breathing accelerates. "I ... the trees were doing a jig and, after, there was too much light. Then it all went black. And then I woke up."

\- "So you fainted", translates Gwaine flatly.

\- "Like _a girl_ ", whispers Arthur, cracking an eye open and grinning weakly at his manservant.

Merlin's gaze lights up and he moves like he's about to hug his master before changing his mind.

\- "Arthur!"

The prince breathes through his teeth and leans his neck against the tree trunk. He answers with a sober blink to Sir Leon's and Gwaine's questions, manages a heroic smile for Guinevere, then his eyes come back to the lad with big ears.

\- "... I'm not quite feeling peachy, but I'm far from dying, _Mer_ lin", he says wryly. "Now, let the good doctor examine you, will you. Proper servants are hard to find, y'know. I'd like to keep you roadworthy."

Merlin nods and turns willingly to his grandfather, not without suppressing another hiss, this one more obvious. His fingers unconsciously clutch to his chest.

\- "Where does it hurt exactly?" asks the old man. "Take off this disgusting shirt, I'd like to see more clearly. Guinevere, can you bring me some water, please?"

\- "With Merlin's chance, the ink went through and stained the skin", chuckles Gwaine, much more relaxed since Arthur woke up.

Gaius shots him a killer look while helping the boy to remove his shirt, seeing that the occasional wince becomes a stifled moan when he tries to raise his arms to pass his collar over his head.

Then they all become so quiet that Leon gets his nose out of the map and glances at them.

\- "What's hap..." he begins, approaching, before he freezes and frowns hard.

\- "Sorry", wheezes Merlin tentatively.

Gaius recovers first.

\- "Gwaine, come here. He won't be able to lie down, so you hold him up. Guinevere, I need you to refill the water skin as many times as needed. Merlin, listen to me. I want you to focus on Arthur. I am almost certain his Highness does not know how to thoroughly clean an armor. Explain it to him, will you?"

The boy nods, a little worried, raises his armpits when Gwaine sits behind him with a frown.

\- "You aren't going to tickle me, eh?"

\- "I won't', promises Gwaine very seriously.

Arthur eyes are wide open and furious.

\- "I know _perfectly_ how to clean an armor, thank you very much. I was a squire once, like everyone else", he growls. "But let's see if you know so well how do that, _Mer_ lin. Don't you dare making a mistake, or I'll send you to the stocks for a week when we go back to Camelot."

The manservant pouts and began his presentation, protesting when his master interrupts. Guinevere brings the swollen and dripping water skin and kneels beside Gaius who gives her instructions in a low voice.

\- "This wound was made by a flail. Merlin must have at least one or two broken ribs. I just hope he's not ... let's just hope that's all. For now, we need to clean all that ink and to get rid of every single piece of fabric that was driven into the flesh. I don't know by what miracle he's still standing ..."

His eyelids close for a moment then he heaves a sigh.

\- "Well, I do, actually."

Gwaine casts a glance at the prince who is so focused on what Merlin is saying he does not realize his knuckles turn white every time the servant lets out an involuntary squeak and backs off instinctively from the water and the cloths cleaning the star-shaped ugly mess of flesh and grime on his chest.

When Gaius thinks they have removed all the dirt and bits of fabric, he carefully patches the wound with another strip of Guinevere's petticoat, complaining because his medical box stayed in the service quarters. The piece of cloth is immediately soaked in blood and the wound could really use a yarrow compress.

Merlin breaks in the middle of his animated description of the process of cleaning a gauntlet to tell his grandfather that he will pick up herbs for him as soon as he gets back his shirt, and Arthur makes a threatening gesture, as if he was going to punch his manservant.

\- "You aren't going anywhere, clotpole."

\- "That's _my_ word", Merlin protests indignantly.

Gaius takes advantage of the distraction to carefully probe his grandson's chest, and to listen to it.

_No bubbly noise under the clammy skin and, yes, indeed, at least one broken rib. But blessed be the gods, nothing more serious._

He straightens up and lets out a deep sigh.

\- "Is he all right?" asks Sir Leon, direct and methodical as always, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Gwaine, Guinevere and Arthur anxiously await the answer while Merlin grumbles as he flips over his tunic. He does not want to put it on because it requires contortion and that hurts, but he feels a bit cold, despite the summer heat rising gradually as the day progresses.

\- "There is no damage _inside_ the body so he will recover eventually" says slowly the old man. "He lost a great deal of blood, that's what worries me."

\- "Can he walk? We _need_ to keep going", insists the knight whose eyes are apologizing.

\- "He's too weak. For now, he thinks he can, but he will soon feel lightheaded and..."

\- "I can walk fine", interrupts Merlin. "I'll help Arthur."

\- "Yeah, sure," rattles the prince. "No way. You're too thin, and your bony shoulders are not at all comfortable. Let's go."

Gwaine gently pushes the boy to his feet once they have helped him don his tunic and monitors when a brief wave of dizziness makes him sway on his long legs. Then he leaves him to the custody of Guinevere and comes to help the knight hoist Arthur up.

Gaius accepts the hand of the young woman and gets up painfully. His stomach gurgles and he moistens his lips.

_Arthur needs real care, a good bed and peace to forget for a few hours the terrible events that have just happened._

_Merlin needs to drink a lot and to eat to regain the strength the blood loss stole away while they were all too busy to notice he was hurt._

Gaius feels like he's the worse doctor of the five kingdoms.

_The oldest._

_And the most hopeless._

He adds to his list of worries Guinevere's torn dress, which does not have enough thickness anymore and shows through.

_Oh, and he's travelling in the company of a very pretty young lady who is not yet married._

_Everything is so_ perfect _._

_Provided they do not run into bandits, they might just be fine._

And the thought has barely crossed his mind when it becomes a noise in the bushes on the left.

Sir Leon also heard it. He stops, draws his sword out, frowning...

\- "Who's there?" he shouts.

Gwaine is ready to drop Arthur to the ground like a mere sack of potatoes and to protect him at the peril of his life.

A huge figure bends under a branch and a shorter one follows, clad in a mail coat glinting in the sunlight slipping through the thick foliage above their heads.

Guinevere and Merlin let go of the same cry of joy.

\- "Lancelot!"

The young man with gentle black eyes smiles.

\- "Sorry it took us so long to come back when we heard the news..."

Percival winks at Gwaine.

\- "Did you _already_ win back your bet?"

Arthur stifles a grimace of pain and gratitude.

\- "Nice to see you, fellows."

Sir Leon sheathes his sword and waits for the introduction, his lips a bit pursed. Gaius shakes his head.

_Suddenly everything feels so much better._

They are still standing; they are still together.

It's not the end yet.

* * *

**_TBC_ **


	12. BRAVEST OF THEM ALL

The first day ended _a lot_ better than it had started.

Sir Leon really enjoyed getting to know the two newcomers. The knight is reliable, sensible, thorough... he excels at following orders, but never feels comfortable when it is _he_ who must take all decisions. Lancelot, on the contrary, is a born leader and without realizing it, he naturally took charge of the situation, rekindling hope and resolution in all members of their party with just being his loyal and confident self. He knows well the area and was able to suggest a change of route, without hurting Sir Leon's pride.

As for Percival, his muscles and good humor are just... _encouraging_. Now that he is here, they almost forget they are fleeing the kingdom fallen into the hands of the enemy. And what he collects for them to eat is perhaps _a tad_ strange (roots with a flour taste, pine nuts and bulbs of flowers that smell like garlic) but it is more nutritious than Gwaine's berries.

The following night, however, was more difficult.

If Lancelot was unable to close his eyes because of the oh so intoxicating presence of Guinevere inches from him, the others however - with the exception of Arthur whose slumber was due to his high fever - were kept awake by Merlin's incessant changes of position, crunching the dead leaves.

At dawn, no one has the heart to blame him, though. He is paler than the day before and visibly exhausted, even if he claims he's all right with his usual lopsided grin. He stands a little crooked to relieve the pressure on his broken rib and Guinevere often needs to grab him by the arm to keep him from falling when dizziness makes him wobble on his spindly legs.

Arthur is _not_ getting better. He pretty much lost consciousness and the men take turns to carry him on their crossed arms. His wound oozes with pus and the stench emanating from it is enough to give you nausea.

Gaius is also matter of concern: the old man will never have the strength to reach the border of Nemeth, at this rate. His breathing is almost as wheezing as Merlin's and sleeping on the forest ground did nothing to relieve him from his rheumatism aches.

In the late afternoon, Lancelot points at a grove that stands amid the wheat fields, not too far in the valley displayed in front of them.

\- "There's a shack down there. I often stop to sleep in it during my travels. We will spend the night there. There will be a bed", he adds, turning to Gaius, "and it'll be safe to make a fire."

He gives his small leather purse to Percival and the brawny man goes down the hill with long strides, towards the village below, with instructions to bring back supplies and information.

Renewed vigor spurts up in their tired spines and they follow the path that winds down into the valley.

The hot sun of the day is now replaced by a warm light that bathes the wide landscape in soft tawny shades. A pleasant breeze flits in Sir Leon's blond curls and on his sweat-sticky nape, and ripples through the dark locks on Guinevere's forehead, stroking her chestnut satin skin.

Gwaine is delighted to discover a wild apple tree flanks the corner of the rundown cottage and begins to plunder it right away, stuffing an apple in his mouth. Gaius gives up telling him the fruits are not yet ripe and will disrupt his digestion probably even more than the berries from the day before.

Inside, apart from cobwebs that Sir Leon takes off with a few reels of the arm and a considerable amount of dust on the table, two benches and the coarse chest, the place is quite nice. Guinevere removes the threadbare blankets from the bed in the corner of the room and goes to shake them outside. The bed is made of intertwined boughs, on which is placed a burlap mattress stuffed with straw and horsehair, large enough for two adult trolls or a family of five.

Ten seconds later, the young woman's happy face pops up at the window.

\- "There's a _well_ and the pulley works!" she chirps excitedly.

Lancelot smiles adoringly while sweeping with a birch broom and Gaius shakes his head: these two look like two newlyweds settling in their love nest. The old man takes a few minutes of rest on a bench, then forces himself to get up again and explores the shelves.

Merlin snoops around too. He finds the wood supply - well furnished, probably from Lancelot's previous halt - and lights a fire in the soot black hearth in the middle of the room.

When Percival arrives at twilight, Gwaine is bringing inside a bucket full of clear water, whistling like he has not done since… _centuries? Yesterday?_

Guinevere has changed into a slightly moth-eaten pair of breeches that were in the chest and cut her long surcoat to turn it into a tunic. She is tearing strips in what remains of her skirts.

Under the watchful eye of the old physician and the worried look of Merlin, Lancelot and Sir Leon are laying down Arthur in the clean, fresh bed.

The knight's red cloak is hanging on a nail, thyme stews quietly in a pot on the fire, a bowl full of raspberries is on the table and the last sunrays lace the room with threads of glittering dust light, passing through the sparse thatched roof.

_It feels... like home._

Percival puts on the table the enormous loaf of bread he was carrying under his arm, fishes in his bag a sausage, a dozen white and round goat cheeses, a jar of honey and a handful of beans. Then he gives a bottle to Gaius.

\- "I found spirits", he says softly.

The old man nods gravely.

\- "Thank you, Percival."

Then he sends Guinevere outside and explains what they will do. The men listen closely. Merlin is desperately eager to help, but Arthur who regained consciousness at the wrong time, orders him out. Sir Leon helps the prince out of his clothes and removes the wound's soiled bandages. Lancelot climbs on the mattress and leans against the wall to tackle the young man's shoulders. Percival kneels beside the bed, one arm girdling the injured man's chest, his other big calloused paw wrapping around Arthur's sweaty hand and squeezing it gently. Gwaine gets ready to keep the legs from jolting.

Merlin hovers around them, anxious and restless, his breathing more and more wheezing.

Gaius pulls the water bucket closer, makes a small pile of strips of cloth next to him, then opens the bottle of spirits and draws in a deep breath.

\- "Ready, sire?"

\- " _No"_ , groans Arthur, teeth clenched on his leather glove in which Lancelot stuffed a piece of wood.

The sapphires cling to the cobalt orbs.

_Get the hell out of here, Merlin. I don't want you to see any of this._

_I'm scared, Merlin. I'm so scared. Please, stay with me._

Then Gaius pours the alcohol on the wound and the prince sees nothing anymore. He jerks back, breaking the stick in the glove, crushes the hand of Percival who doesn't let go, yells, wrests to get free, screams, his body arching to escape the wrenching burning, swears in a voice that crackles and sputters and moans and _finally_ he passes out.

The men have turned white, but they did not flinch.

Now the prince has gone limp, Gaius cleanses thoroughly the swollen and festering wound, carefully removing scraps of rotten flesh and pressing to drain the pus out.

Sweat is dripping down his forehead, but he does not feel it. His glasses slipped a little on his slick nose. His old fingers are working meticulously, relentless.

He will not let Arthur die.

_He's his prince; he's the child he helped come to the world and watched growing up._

This is perhaps the first time the physician realizes Arthur is like a son to him.

He drops the cloth soaked with blood and glutinous yellow ooze on the floor and washes his hands in the bucket next to him.

\- "Merlin, bring me the honey, please. It's on the table."

Nothing moves.

\- "Merlin", Gaius repeats, turning with a squeak of the stool in the direction where the boy was standing.

Gwaine and Lancelot lift their heads, but Percival gently slides his bruised hand out of Arthur's, gets up and fetches the jar.

Merlin is still standing in the same place, his hands pressed on his mouth, his face as white as spoiled milk, blotched with silent crying. His frail body is racked by violent tremors and his eyes are bulging with terror and grief. He's struggling to breathe, a pathetic little wheezing sound.

Sir Leon takes off his numb arms that were pinning the prince on the bed and goes to the boy. Gently, very gently, he leads him to the door, holding his trembling shoulders.

\- "No", says Gaius' tired voice behind him.

_He forgot._

He had seen so many patients suffer: men injured in battle, victims at the stake, women dying in childbirth, sick kids, old folks at death's door.

Merlin has been helping him since he arrived in Camelot and often the old man is amazed by his strength in bearing the sight of atrocities, as if his strong desire to relieve, to save people, protected the boy.

_But it's different this time._

_This time it is Arthur who's in pain._

Gaius wants to beat himself badly for not listening to the order mumbled by the prince, to get his servant out of the room.

_And..._

_Now it's too late to go back, so they should at least end this nightmare quickly._

Sir Leon gives a puzzled glance to the physician.

\- "Guinevere will take care of him", he says tentatively. "He's shocked, but he'll be better in a moment ..."

Gaius takes off his glasses, runs a hand over his face gray with fatigue and pinches the bridge of his nose.

\- "No", he finally repeats. "Sir Leon, I need you to take care of Arthur. Go get fresh water, bathe him the best you can. He will sleep better if we rid him of this sweat of agony and this... smell. Give the linens and the clothes to Guinevere. If she can wash them tonight, they'll be dry by tomorrow and it'll be even better for the prince. He should be as comfortable as possible to rest if we want him to heal properly."

Sir Leon nods and gently pats Merlin's quivering shoulder before complying. The boy who is still suffocating in anguish does not even feel it.

\- "Lancelot, Gwaine. You will help me. He's nothing near the built of the prince, so two men should suffice, but I require you to be as vigilant as possible. I don't want his broken rib to get dislodged..."

\- " _No_."

Lancelot, who paled as he understood what the physician was talking about, turns his head toward Gwaine. The bearded young man stood up and is shaking his chin stubbornly.

\- "No", he repeats in a hoarse whisper. "Count me out of it. I... I can't, I'm sorry. I'll go... prepare the mattresses for tonight."

His dark eyes avoid their looks as he goes around the bed and heads for the door with unsteady strides.

The door falls shut behind him. The sun has gone, now, and the light is dimming in the single room of the cottage.

Gaius is terribly frowning when he turns to Percival.

\- "I'll help", hastily replies the brawny man.

Carefully, Lancelot lowers Arthur onto the rough pillow. Then he gets off the bed, steps on the footprints Gwaine left in the dirt and puts his arm on Merlin's shoulders, very gently.

\- "Come", he says, leading him to a bench.

He makes him sit and waits for Gaius to come to them in a weary motion.

\- "Merlin. _Merlin_ , look at me", says the physician. "Everything's fine, now. Arthur doesn't hurt anymore. He's asleep. He will feel much better tomorrow, you'll see."

The boy's teeth are clattering, and his chest rises erratically, tears are streaking down his hollow cheekbones, gasps of pain are barely escaping his blue tinted lips.

Gaius massages his grandson's hands.

\- "Listen to me, my boy. You need to be very brave for a while. I..."

He inhales, touches the cheek of Merlin who immediately snuggles in his palm.

His blue eyes are still blinking but the horror is slightly fading in the pit of his dilated irises.

\- "I… I need to clean your wound too. This is important so that it does not get infected. It won't hurt as much as it did to Arthur, I promise."

Lancelot softly squeezes Merlin's nape when he stiffens and Percival crouches in front of him.

\- "You can do it, little fellow", he says with a smile, and his big paws swaddle the boy's hands, as he did for the prince.

\- "It won't be long", promises Gaius.

His heart clamps painfully in his chest when his grandson nods, shivering, his frightened blue eyes trusting their gazes.

_Merlin._

_You really are the bravest of us all..._

When they have given his shirt to Guinevere who did not dwell in the room for long (her cheeks stained with tears telling them she heard everything from the outside), Lancelot sits astride on the bench and wraps his arms around Merlin who instinctively shrinks against him. Percival waits for Gaius to be ready with the cloth dampened with the alcohol which vapors seem to make the boy slightly giddy, then he settles his massive arm on Merlin's lap, imprisoning his ankles between his knees.

\- "I am _so_ sorry, my boy..." whispers the old man, and he begins to clean the wound carefully.

And it doesn't last long indeed.

_Just a few minutes, that feel like years._

Merlin shrieks when the burning liquid touches the edge of the wound, twists desperately, trying to push the hand of his grandfather. Lancelot stops him, so he tries to bite him and kicks Percival, but the two men do not budge. The boy mewls in pain, writhes, cries and begs them to stop, sobbing that it hurts, that they lied, and can't they just let go of him, _please, he won't be naughty, he'll be nice... please… please_...

Then something snaps inside his frail body drenched in sweat and for a moment he seems about to choke. Then he goes limp in their arms and his head flumps back softly on Lancelot's shoulder.

Outside, leaning against the wall of the cottage, Gwaine is biting his fist and warm ugly tears are trickling down in his beard, never stopping.

Gaius breathes in deeply when he's done working. His eyes are wet and if his hand does not tremble, it is because the doctor still has control over the grandfather.

\- "Put him in the bed next to the prince", he tells Lancelot in a strained voice. "Percival, may I ask you to help me go to Arthur? I think my old bones do not have the strength to carry me ..."

The burly man supports him to the bed and pulls the stool closer before helping him sit. Gaius takes the honey jar and carefully daubs the prince's wound, while Lancelot cleans Merlin's sticky chest with the clear water Sir Leon fetched.

Gwaine comes back, silent and discreet like a shadow in the corner of the room. He contemplates the fragile form of the servant, listens to his labored breathing, and he does not dare to get closer.

It is Percival who, after a while, gives him the honey jar and shows him how to copy Gaius' ministrations.

Night has come and coats the wheat fields swishing in the dark. An owl hoots in the distance, bats are whiffling somewhere under the branches of the apple tree. Crickets begin their peaceful rhyme when the first star appears on the celestial dome.

Guinevere hangs the last strips of fabric beside the prince's and his servant's tunics on a rope stretched between two trees. She wipes her cheeks, purses her lips and goes back inside.

The men have rekindled the fire. Gaius is dozing on the stool next to the bed, mouth ajar with quiet snoring, his hoary-haired head leaning against the whitewashed wall. Arthur's sturdy shoulders and Merlin's bony ones are tucked under the blankets, gleaming slightly in the glow of the flames.

Sir Leon cuts the bread, Lancelot brings three chipped plates he found on the shelves. Percival fills a clay pitcher with thyme infusion. Gwaine puts down the mattresses on the floor along the wall opposite the bed.

They don't speak much.

The route they will take as soon as Arthur's condition has slightly improved, rumors about the fall of Camelot beginning to spread, no dogs on their heels as if Cenred and the two sisters did not care about the prince's whereabouts, their worries and expectations about the welcome of the king of Nemeth, where it will be easier to cross the border.

Guinevere gets up to wash the dishes when they're finished eating, but Lancelot shakes his head and sends her to rest. Percival goes to collect more firewood and Gwaine brings a steaming plate to Gaius. The old physician swallows his food quickly, then checks Arthur's pulse and puts his hand on Merlin's forehead before he agrees to lie down a bit on Sir Leon's insistence.

The first to take watch is instructed to keep an eye on both patients.

At midnight, everyone is sound asleep in the quiet cottage, including Gwaine, his head on his arms folded on the table.

Arthur coughs in his sleep, stirs and groans as he regains consciousness. His head feels heavy. The pain in his thigh is throbbing dully, as if detached from him. The room is completely dark, except for a moonbeam sliding through the thatched roof and shrouding the sleeping forms along the wall. The prince turns his head to the right, painfully.

 _Where's the watchman?_ He is terribly thirsty but feebler than a beetle crushed on a shield.

 _Oh. It's Gwaine._ The bearded clown, who is also an outstanding swordsman and a drunkard, is slumbering like everyone else.

_Holy patience._

A breath grazes Arthur's naked shoulder, followed by a move on his left, then a muffled moan like one of a wet kitten.

The prince turns his head to the other side and his eyes meet a mop of black hair and two blue eyes fluttering open.

\- "... 'thur?"

The young man frowns, clearing his thoughts with a cough.

\- "Why are you sleeping in here? Did you faint _again_?" he asks hoarsely.

Merlin changes position and his wheezing increases with a grimace of pain as he clutches on the bandage swathed around his scrawny chest.

\- "Shhh ... easy…" murmurs Arthur turning to his side, careful to not moving his injured leg. "Calm down. How did you get yourself in this state? This is nonsense, _Mer_ lin."

The boy, who is trying to regain control of his labored breathing, still tries to smile.

His cobalt orbs cling to Arthur's blue eyes like if they were a lifeline.

\- "S-so-rry..."

\- " _Sorry_ is not everything", scoffs the prince. "Look at you. What were you thinking? You wanted to be a hero, I bet. You couldn't stay quietly in a corner, like any ordinary servant?"

He doesn't know, but the small wrinkles in the corner of his right eyelid tell people when he's not _really_ angry.

\- "Geo… rge ... he ... does not ... fall ... in ... the ... st ... st-airs ..."

\- "It must be his only positive feature", Arthur says sarcastically. "Uninteresting and very steady on his feet. Maybe he should volunteer to serve as a statue."

Merlin seems to be breathing a little easier and the prince feels a weight lift up a bit from of his own chest.

\- "Merlin, you're not a soldier. You don't need to fight or die for _anyone_ or _anything"_ , he says very seriously. "I, on the contrary, swore an oath as a knight. It's _different_. So next time, let me do my duty and don't go standing in the way. Find a good spot to hide and ... "

The boy shakes his head.

\- "I'm ... not ... a coward ... I ... won't ... let … you ... get ...hurt…"

His face contorts and he moans, trying to escape the pain that yanked in his ribs when he moved involuntary to lift his head and give more weight to his words.

Arthur winces in echo and looks for a way to comfort him: a pat on the shoulder or perhaps just pushing back the black locks tangled on his servant's sweaty forehead.

Merlin sinks into the mattress, out of breath.

\- "I know", says the prince softly. "I know you're not a coward, but ..."

The cobalt orbs stare at him intensely in the light of the moon, bright with fever, or tears, or challenge.

\- "But... I'm ... _just_ ... a ... s-servant ..."

Arthur smiles. His hand reaches out and pulls up the blanket on the quivering bony shoulders.

\- "You're _my_ servant. A very courageous servant. And incredibly loyal. Not a coward at all", he says sincerely.

Then a lump swells in his throat and his smile fades away.

\- "Don't change, Merlin ... please..."

_Don't betray me._

_Never look at me with Morgana's eyes._

The free hand of the boy, the one that is not clutching on the bandage protecting his ribs, grabs his wrist and squeezes it.

Strong, so strong that it almost hurts.

\- "I ... won't ... change ... I ... will ... always... stay by… your side ..."

Arthur bites his lips.

\- " _Why_?" he mutters bitterly. "I've lost everything... got no more crown ... no more land ... no more family ... Did I have something _before_? I don't think I was even worth any of this. I ... I'm just ... a _prat_."

Merlin grins royally.

\- "That's r-right… you're a prat", he whispers with his usual cheekiness. "But… you're… also… a g-great… warrior… and o-one day… you'll be… a… great… king…"

His blue eyes have become very serious and his eyelids are fighting the exhaustion overcoming him.

\- "Me… I'm happy… to be ... your s-servant ... till... the day I die...."

Arthur looks at the boy drifting back to sleep and he still does not understand.

He saved Merlin only _once_.

_Surely, it was not a debt that must be repaid at such a price._

A hand touches his shoulder and he turns his head to the right.

Gwaine is there with a cup filled with thyme infusion. He slips his arm behind the prince's back, props up his shoulders a bit, helps him to drink.

Arthur feels completely drained after that.

-"T'nks ..." he mumbles when he lies back down.

\- "You're welcome, my friend", Gwaine whispers in the dark.

He stands still for a moment, the empty cup in his hand, then stifles a sigh.

\- "Some kid, eh..."

Arthur does not hear him. He closed his eyes and sleep won him over almost immediately. He has not let go of Merlin's slender hand.

And he's still holding it the next day when the rising sun slithers through the roof holes, dancing in golden flies on the bearded cheek of Gwaine who fell back asleep again at the table.

Gaius gets up, yawning, his joints grinding as he stretches up, and he goes to see how both patients are doing.

The others wake up one by one, rested, refreshed. Sir Leon frowns, realizing they probably spent the night without a watchman, but he forgets it when Lancelot offers him a piece of cheese at the tip of his knife. Guinevere and Percival volunteer to go to the farm down the road and to get some soured milk for the two injured men.

Merlin eats with gusto and Arthur manages not to throw up his meagre breakfast.

Gaius reluctantly agrees on leaving the cottage to keep moving towards Nemeth. He understands the concerns of Lancelot and the knight, but it really is not reasonable for the prince's health.

Gwaine is to be thanked for the century's best idea, this time. He makes a stretcher with long intertwined branches and pads it with woolen blankets. Arthur is settled on it and the four men lift the makeshift bed.

Guinevere is responsible for the water and food supplies, Gaius monitors Merlin who's teasing the prince but whose breathing has not improved. The physician has checked his grandson's chest for bubbling under the skin again, but he couldn't hear anything wrong. The only worry is probably the trouble the boy has in filling his lungs because of the pain in his _two_ broken ribs.

\- "Let's go", says Lancelot.

Arthur spends the day dozing and moaning whenever someone trips over a rock and the shock ripples in his leg.

They take a break for lunch and Gaius examines his grandson again.

Merlin is very pale now, and he did not utter a word for hours. His lips are tinted blue and he mentions his ears ringing from time to time. He does not eat anything, does not even try to laugh when Gwaine puts his hands in a hive and finds himself chased by a swarm of angry bees.

The boy does not seem to find relief in any position and his forehead is hot to the touch.

\- "He can't keep walking", Gaius says sternly when Lancelot tells them it's time to go.

\- "So we need to carry him", the young man replies simply. "If we don't make it to the ruins of Asgorath tonight, we won't be safe. This area is infested with bandits."

Percival nods.

\- "I'll do it. Lady Guinevere, will you be strong enough to help with the stretcher?"

The young woman rolls her eyes for the umpteenth time since the beginning of the trip.

\- "I'm _not_ a lady", she corrects, smiling. "And _yes_ , I'll be fine. You really have no clue the amount of water that must be carried up the stairs of the castle for the bath of a nobleman! I'm probably tougher than you."

Sir Leon chuckles and Lancelot's eyes sparkle with laughter.

Merlin pouts, but he does not struggle when Percival picks him up without any effort, slipping an arm under the knees of the servant and the other behind his back.

The boy moans a little when his body rocks against the massive chest of the brawny man, then he manages to huddle as comfortably as he can. His long legs dangle like those of a child (he is not much heavier than one) and he ends up leaning his head against Percival's shoulder.

\- "You're all right, little fellow? If you feel sick or if it hurts, tell me, I'll stop."

\- "No", groans Merlin, closing his eyes, visibly tired. "We must go quickly to where Arthur can rest properly. And I'm not _little,_ oversized troll."

\- "Sure thing, twig."

Gaius fills up the water skin and packs what's left of the food in a blanket he knots. They follow the valley on a fairly flat road, bordered by fields and a river flowing merrily in the shade of oak trees. They don't meet any one and Lancelot explains it's because this road is no longer a major route. There is a large town on the other side of the plain and it is through it the merchants have been going for some years.

Sir Leon's admiration for the smart vagabond keeps rising. He is really starting to regret that Uther Pendragon did not do an exception for him.

Guinevere is holding up well and the three men are proud to share the weight of the stretcher with her.

Arthur, fortunately for him ( _he's mortified to be carried by a woman_ ) and for everyone else ( _his bad temper has increased because he dares not complain about stones anymore_ ), has given into another fever induced slumber.

Gaius managed to gather herbs along the road without being left too far behind. He is rather pleased with himself. He will be able to make an ointment for Gwen's blisters and a poultice for his old joints. He hums an outdated epic song and, amused, finds out Lancelot knows it too.

Percival follows the stretcher at an even pace and quietly smiles when Gwaine turns to shout:

\- "You all right, big man?"

He mouths "fine", without a sound.

Nuzzled against his shoulder, Merlin is sound asleep.

* * *

**_TBC_ **


	13. WHISPERS

Twilight fills the sky with rills of lilac and streaks of light, giving the mountains a glowing red and golden halo, as if the forest was burning beyond the border. The evening is fresh. Mosquitoes swish along the stream gulling down on their right, like a glittering ribbon in the coming darkness.

The wings of a night butterfly brush against Gaius' wizened forehead and the old man casts a glance behind him. He is still out of breath after the hard climb on the narrow path. Lancelot has promised the rest of the way to the watchtower in ruins would be a little flatter. The stretcher-bearers did not complain, but they are visibly tired.

Percival had to rouse Merlin and let him walk for the uphill part. The boy complied valiantly despite his tottering and the many breaks he had to take to catch his breath. The brawny man scooped him up as soon as they arrived at the top of the slope and the servant did not protest. Instead he snuggled back against the broad chest of his big friend and went back to sleep almost immediately.

But he is much less peaceful than before. He mumbles in his slumber, whimpers feebly, his eyelashes are fluttering, and his skin is hot, you can feel it even through his thin cerulean tunic.

Percival would like to do something to relieve him somehow, _but what can he do_? He feels terribly helpless and, for lack of better, mutters comforting words, tells stories of unlucky jesters, mischievous goblins, frogs that could dance. From time to time, Merlin half-opens a blue eye and a weak grin grazes his tensed features.

When Lancelot says they have arrived at their home base for the day, Percival has exhausted his repertoire of tales and his big deep voice hums the messed-up verses of an outdated ballade. The boy has swung an arm around his neck and his wheezy breath breezes against the sturdy man's throat. He is finally dozing more serenely and, worried that stopping would wake him up, Percival decides to keep pacing until Gaius is done checking on Arthur.

Sir Leon gathers some large stones and starts a fire, Lancelot goes off to ensure the area is secure, Guinevere fetches water. Gwaine brings an armful of dead wood, then loiters near the giant.

\- "What y'doing?" he asks, tiptoeing to look at Merlin's face, nestled against his friend's tunic.

\- "My sister used to sing a lullaby to her kids when they had a fever", Percival explains in his usual slow voice. "It made the ills go away faster. I thought ... well, can't be bad for him ..."

He keeps an eye on the old physician who is redressing Arthur's leg, next to the fire. His arms are a little sore, but it doesn't matter.

\- "You have nephews?"

\- "Three. They live in Mercia, with my sister. She's a widow. Her husband got killed along with our parents. Bandits, slaughtered almost the whole village. I took her to Mercia, found her a place to live, people to care for her and the kids. I visit them, from time to time. Lancelot met her once."

Gwaine nods in silence, then his brown eyes smile over his curly beard.

\- "You'd make a wonderful father."

Percival blinks, flabbergasted.

\- "You know, sometimes, the random stuff that comes out of this mouth of yours can be rather unsettling."

Gwaine tilts his head to the side when Merlin mumbles in his sleep and drools a bit on Percival's tunic. He smiles fondly, reaches out to disentangle the sticky black curls on the boy's forehead, but suddenly changes his mind.

His face darkens and the burly man considers him worriedly.

\- "What's wrong, mate?"

Gwaine's voice is almost a whisper when he finally speaks, his eyes still gazing at the sleeping servant.

\- "I am… such a coward. I wish I'd be stronger, that I… like, yesterday. I just… I _couldn't_ , Percival. I just couldn't _stand_ seeing him hurt and knowing _I_ couldn't do anything to stop the pain. I… I-I was… _just_ the screams were already _excruciating_. Like something ripping my soul into shards… _he_ should never have to hurt like this…"

He shudders.

\- "I know", says the giant quietly.

Lancelot is back from his inspection and crouched next to Gaius. The old physician explains something in a low voice, his withered hand resting on the arm of Arthur who is still unconscious. Guinevere prepares their supper. Sir Leon is piling ferns along the collapsed wall to serve as mattresses.

The fire casts golden shadows on the old stones. The watchtower soars to the stars, a little blurred by the translucent smoke.

No one approached the two men. Gwaine's hunched shoulders and the patient and slightly concerned look on Percival's face are enough for the others to give them some time and space.

\- "I… I care so much for this kid. I… I really don't know what he saw in me, but… He's just different. Amazing. So simple and so naive and so pure… Makes you want to give your best… I was… I was _so alone_. So lost. Just a drunk, with no purpose, no path, no one. And there he came, looked at me with his big blue eyes…"

Gwaine chokes on the lump in his throat and he turns his head to hide the emotion peering in the corner of his eye.

\- "And I started to think I could actually _do_ something with my life. Be a proper human being. Try lifting up my head and looking at the world the way he does. I'm no fool, I know I'll never be a proper knight like my father or Lancelot, nor a good man like you. But since I met Merlin, I… somehow, I wish, I… if I could _only_ … make him proud, it'd be... something."

His voice is nothing but faint murmur, but Percival still hears. He smiles at his friend over the mop of black hair cuddled on his shoulder.

\- "He's _already_ proud of you, Gwaine. He can see what a brave and honest man you are. And he got us to see it too. You're not alone anymore."

_"You're not alone anymore."_

_The words dance cheerfully in Merlin's heart, rolling under his tongue, sparkling in his cerulean eyes. He would like to shout them loudly in the streets, to put them in a melody like pearls, but the others are not ready._

_Will they ever be?_

_So he looks around, intensely, earnestly, and each time he meets tired or wounded gazes, he offers the precious words._

_"You are not alone."_

_"You exist for a good reason."_

_"You are loved."_

_"I'm glad to have met you."_

_People are so unhappy, so much in a hurry, so forgetful, so mistrustful._

_Why is it nobody hears the words he sings in silence?_

_Why are they always pushing him away with a shrug, a grunt, a slap?_

_Why are they mocking him and why,_ why _, do they always enjoy seeing his rangy legs tangle and trip? Why is it so funny to hurt him?_

_Merlin tries again and again._

_Every morning he wakes up with the same fervid desire to smile, to tell people life is wonderful, life is a precious gift they should rejoice over receiving._

_Every night he lies down under the blanket and muffles disappointed tears, trying to count. A little girl answered his smile with shyness. An old man relented. A big woman ruffled his hair and gave him a cookie, calling him an "angel". Surely, they understood ... but why_ only _them?_

_Why is the world full of people moaning, crying, sighing, yelling?_

_How can Merlin make them all happy?_

_"That's impossible, my love," Mama said._

_"That's impossible, my boy," Gaius said._

_But he wants to believe it is._

_He wants to try once again._

_Merlin knows his many flaws: he is a klutz, he is a ditz, he can not write very well and he has big ears._

_But he also knows how tenacious he can be and he is proud of it._

_So he keeps trying, he hopes, he believes._

_And one day at the market, when he turns round in the circle of dancing children who go too fast and make him dizzy with their usual chanting - "idiot, idiot, idiot" - he stumbles and in the blazing sun, stands a figure with broad shoulders, arms crossed._

_He blinks._

_Sunlight plays in the blond hair of the man, shrouding him in brightness when he steps forward._

_He makes the dancing stop, he sends away the children. His voice is strong._

_An annoyed voice, rumbling to hide his doubts and fears._

_When Merlin meets the blue eyes of the young man, he sees anger, compassion, and so many questions._

_"I'm so alone."_

_"What should I do?"_

_"Does anyone care about me?"_

_Merlin smiles and then he gives, as he always does._

_His gaze, his love, his hope._

_"I'm here."_

_And the young man tilts his head to the side after stepping aside as if he is not so sure he heard well._

_"What's your name? Your_ real _name."_

_This is the first time someone takes the trouble to ask this question._

_This is more than a simple "thank you", more than a softened glance, more than sparing him a kick in the legs._

_Merlin's heart swells with gratitude and when he goes to bed that night, he curls into a ball under the blanket and giggles with delight._

_Puzzled sapphires looked at him._

_The whole of him._

_Like an answer to the words his heart whispers._

_Like if they were calling out for him._

_So he looks for the young man with sunny hair and observes him from a distance._

_His name is Arthur._

_He often boasts, he likes to fight with dangerous weapons, he is constantly surrounded by a bunch of people who flatter him. He lives in luxury, he eats his fill, he is always clothed in scarlet velvet and glossy leather._

_The king is his father._

_Sometimes you can find him leaning on the ramparts, watching people go in and out of the citadel as if he were a prisoner. Behind his back, people call him a prat and they mock him. He has no one to tell of his dreams and there's a hollowness in the way he laughs._

_He's all alone._

_So Merlin decides he will watch over him._

_Like a kitten, he trots in the shadow of the prince who does not notice it. Like a dragon, he defends him when one speaks ill of him and protects him at the peril of his life._

_And when he becomes the prince's manservant, every day is a new reason to believe. Later, others come and join spontaneously in his efforts._

_The world may change, because someone started acting differently._

_One day, Arthur will be king._

_And no one will be forgotten anymore._

The fire crackles in the night, at the foot of the watchtower in ruins.

Percival kneels carefully, Merlin still cradled in his arms, and unfolds the long legs of the boy on the fern mattress while Gaius checks on his grandson.

\- "He's running a fever", says the brawny man.

\- "Is it the wound getting infected?" asks Gwaine in concern, crouched beside them, chewing on a long blade of grass.

The old man shakes his head, knotting back the laces of Merlin's tunic.

\- "No, it's just because he's exhausted. The wound is on the mend and he is young. The ribs also will heal over time."

He strokes the pale face leaning against Percival's biceps and his constant frowning smoothes down a little.

\- "My poor boy ..."

Merlin chooses this moment to half-open his eyes and he smiles when he sees his grandfather.

\- "Are we there yet?" he yawns.

Gwaine chuckles.

\- "Nope."

\- "Where's Arthur?"

They could have bet on this being the next question.

\- "Right there", says Gaius, pointing at the prince laying on the other side of the fern mattress, under the blanket and Sir Leon's red cloak. "He's very weak. His injury is getting better, but he needs to eat something to regain strength – and I can't get him to."

\- "Oh", says Merlin, pushing himself up.

Percival accompanies the move and prevents him from tipping when the inevitable dizziness assails him.

\- "Where are you going like that, mate?" Gwaine inquires.

\- "He needs to eat, and he _will_ ", resolutely replies the boy as he goes to the fire.

Guinevere hands him a piece of bread and a chunk of cheese, smiling at him despite her obvious fatigue. Her curly dark hair is dirty and raveled. Her clothes make her itchy, she has a stomachache and she wants to take a bath. But she's determined not to break down.

Women can be as courageous as men and she will not be a burden to her fellow travelers, not as long as she has a choice.

She watches Merlin sitting cross-legged next to Arthur and marvels once more at this tireless loyalty.

The prince growls, shoves back the hand of his manservant.

\- "Merlin, for once, leave me in peace, please..."

\- "Gaius says you have to eat to get better, sire", insists the boy. "Come on, dollophead. If you love dozing on ferns layers, I will make you a new bed when we go back to Camelot and then you can give me your old mattress that is so _uncomfortable_."

\- "Shut up, Merlin ..."

\- "You know, this cheese is not bad, once you overcome its Gwaine-y sock smell. Don't pull a face, it's not like if it was rat. And rat is not even this disgusting, actually. It's just ... _stringy_. You should try it once!"

Arthur is too tired to fight against this flood of words and he does not like the red spots that this agitation is bringing the too white cheeks of his manservant.

He yields, lifts on his elbows, nibbles on a crunchy piece of bread on which, while chatting, Merlin melted a slice of cheese.

It is not half bad and the prince realizes that he is - a bit - hungry.

Sir Leon grins from the stone on which he sits.

\- "He's so leading him by the nose", he mutters between high and low.

At his side, Lancelot laughs softly while munching his supper.

The fire glints in Guinevere's velvet eyes, in front of him. She is so beautiful, even dressed like that, even after several days of flight.

_Beautiful and brave._

The young woman feels his eyes on her and briefly looks up. Her eyelashes quiver, a shade of pink warms her cheeks, she stares at her dusty boots, tying her arms around her knees.

_She avoids him._

_She mesmerizes him._

_Does she love him? Is he a good friend ... or does she fancy Arthur? How would the prince react if Lancelot got one step closer to the maidservant? Would they become enemies?_

The young man shakes his head to get rid of these thoughts and wolfs down his last piece of bread.

_It is not the right time for this. Definitely not._

_When will it be the right time?_

The night breeze runs through the undergrowth, ruffling in the bushes, whirling around the trees.

A shiver runs down Lancelot's spine and he stands almost by an instinct. Sir Leon looks surprised for a moment, then his face stiffens up and he does the same, his hand gripping his sword.

The fire is still crackling in the middle of the circle, but the relaxed atmosphere has suddenly vanished.

Far above them, the round moon shrouds the decrepit tower in a spectral glow.

\- "What is it?" Guinevere whispers anxiously. "Bandits?"

\- "D'you think Cenred's soldiers caught up with us?" mumbles Gwaine, moving almost in slow motion to stand in front of the prince.

Gaius has armed himself with a twig, Percival scans the darkness beyond the collapsed wall that protects them from the cold breath of the forest.

Arthur sat up in a fierce motion and tackled Merlin onto the pile of ferns. He holds him down, tucked under his arm, not caring for the wheezing and the muffled protests of the boy. He grabbed his sword with his other hand and his blue eyes bright with fever are focused, ready to fight despite his weak condition.

A chunk of cheese rolled in the grass and an ant trots over its crust.

A cinder bursts with blazing sparks. Shadows are ghosting in the forest. Slowly, very slowly, a figure hidden under a long homespun cloak comes out the darkness.

\- "Show yourself!" orders Lancelot, threatening.

The stranger's arms signal peace and the cloak opens up, revealing a coarse woolen robe and a rope belt.

\- "I only wish to warm up a bit by your fire", says a husky voice.

\- "It's an old woman", says Guinevere with compassion, getting up and coming to her despite the men's wariness.

Lancelot holds his breath and Merlin watches from below Arthur's elbow when the stranger takes off her thick hood, revealing a face shriveled like an overripe apple and gray eyes like two drops of water, under a bluish turban.

\- "My name is Finna", says the woman, her translucent gaze settling on each of them, one after the other. "And you are fleeing Camelot. Tomorrow night will see the end of your journey."

Sir Leon looks ready to kill her at the instant, but Percival shakes his head.

\- "She's a druid", he says hesitantly, his chin pointing at the black tattoos intertwined on the parchment skin of the intruder's skinny wrists.

Arthur frowns disgruntledly.

\- " _So_?"

Lancelot sheathes his sword calmly.

\- "Druids are peaceful people and do not care about the realms quarrels or even their borders", Gaius explains, looking much more at ease. "They belong everywhere and nowhere."

The cold breeze that had risen in the forest has died down. An owl calls in the distance, a familiar hoarse cry. Tiny flames gnaw at the big red logs sinking in the hoary ashes.

The mild summer night is peaceful again.

Lancelot sits down and, trusting his air of authority, Sir Leon does the same. Guinevere offers a drink to the old woman who accepts with a smile. Percival skewers a piece of bread on a twig, tops it with a chunk of cheese and roasts it all before handing it to their visitor.

Arthur takes his arm off and Merlin straightens up, hissing in anger and pain.

\- "That _hurt_!" he complains in a shrill voice.

The prince ignores him royally and sits up on the bed of ferns, leaning his back to the stone wall and keeping an eye on the newcomer.

_Druid or not, they don't need anyone meddling with them._

Gwaine goes off to 'look for wood'. When he comes back, he crouches beside the prince and whispers "she is alone" quickly, before feeding the fire.

\- "You're wary of me, young man", says the old woman, curiously amused.

Gwaine mutters something under his breath, avoiding looking at her.

She laughs softly, staring at them with almost transparent irises, tilting her head to the side. Her eyes linger longer on Arthur and she smiles in a strange way, almost tenderly, almost respectfully.

\- "Some many years of life and I never thought one day my eyes would see the real thing", she whispers, leaning towards Gaius who raises an eyebrow, puzzled (and probably a little worried about a potential new "Grunhilda" case).

\- "I beg your pardon?" he mumbles.

The old woman giggles, and she reaches out towards Merlin under the surprised look of the others.

\- "Will you come here for a moment, young man?"

The boy glances at the prince who nods grimly.

_What can he say, really? "No, Merlin, don't go to the harmless old lady "? That would be ridiculous._

The servant unfolds slowly, wincing when the motion pulls on his ribs, and comes to the stranger, dragging his feet a little. She smiles and the wrinkles on her translucent skin pucker up in the corner of his eyes, making her look like a good grandmother.

\- "Will you let me take your hand?"

Merlin shrugs and complies.

Gwaine and Arthur monitor the scene, tense and wary. Gaius ponders intensely, his bushy eyebrows knotting in the middle of his forehead. Lancelot and Sir Leon are intrigued. Guinevere finds the moment very sweet.

The woman contemplates the calloused palm of the boy for a long time, then her eyes lift up.

\- "So it was true. The time has come", she whispers in a barely audible voice. " _The once and future king, mighty sovereign lead by the hand of a child. Peace comes at the price of great sorrows and strength is no more than a beat of the heart_."

A tear runs down her cheek.

\- "Yes. Yes", she repeats softly, and her old hand reaches out to stroke Merlin's cheek. He does not understand, and his cobalt orbs are clearly wondering how to comfort her. "That's what they said _. There never was a kindest soul, a purest gaze. In these eyes the old and the new meet light and find more than just the end of worlds_."

Arthur stirs uncomfortably on the pile of ferns.

_Won't this granny soon stop talking in riddles and shed tears that have no reason to be?_

He is - almost - scared.

\- "Merlin", he calls abruptly.

The manservant hesitates - perhaps for the first time since they know each other. He looks at the old woman and she does not move, quivering. Then he leans in and kisses her forehead with kindness.

For a few imperceptible seconds, there is no more gangly boy with protruding ears in the middle of the circle, but a lean young man on whose shoulders rests the weight of destiny.

Merlin straightens up and his blue eyes smile fondly at Finna, with the simplicity they know so well. He gently withdraws his hand and waddles back to sit next to Arthur.

The prince poorly conceals a sigh of relief.

\- "What does that mean?" Gaius asks, leaning toward the old woman. "I think I recognized the words of an ancient legend, that some used to say was but a prophecy."

The opalescent eyes of the old woman turn to him, lost in what could be a trance, and she purses her lips.

\- " _Rest comes to the elders, but to whom has sealed his eyes will not be granted_ ", she hisses. " _Until more than you lost shall have you save_."

Gaius' face crumbles down and he does not say another word. He suddenly looks like a wilted plant and his steps are heavy when he gets up to go lay down on the mattress of ferns. Guinevere brings him a blanket, then comes back to the fire.

Sir Leon clears his throat.

\- "I'll take first watch", he says, turning to Lancelot who nods obliviously, staring at the strange woman.

\- " _Witness of the past and guardian of the future, whom who has seen and will see"_ , she mumbles, swaying slightly back and forth. " _Loyalty lays at the foot of the throne as time flies and comes round_."

She lifts her chin to the stars and another tear runs down her cheek. Then her eyes blaze up.

\- " _Wandering soul who found banner, when heaven's feathers will kiss the earth, only one path shall open for you, sword against sword to save the lives of thousands. To save the king, the Knight of the Lake will know what choice to make_."

She holds a trembling bony finger towards Percival who cringes.

\- " _Steady your heart, for you will be the sole protector of Eternity and stand alone to guide young years in memory"_ , she recites in a disembodied voice.

Gwaine feels a chill run down his spine.

_He does not like that, oh no, not at all._

_And besides, no one here appreciates the weird poems. They should not have accepted her sitting by their fire and what are they waiting for to send her back to hell where she comes from?_

His heart misses a beat when he realizes she's now staring at him.

There is no anger in these limpid eyes, not vertiginous emptiness nor the loving worship she offered to Merlin.

Only great sadness.

\- " _When comes the last dawn, fear not, you have not failed. No one can know or change destiny. What was written will be, but it is your courage that will be remembered_."

The bearded young man freezes - annoyed, angry, scared, destabilized.

_Will she shut up soon?_

His throat clogs up and he fails to speak, to protest, to laugh or to sourly retort.

_Are they stuck in the moment? Has she enchanted them?_

_Why is nobody saying anything?_

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm down and notices that Sir Leon got up and is now standing at the edge of the forest, his hand on the hilt of his sword. Gaius is still lying on the mattress of ferns with his back to them. Percival quaffs what's left in his water skin then gets up to go fill it at the stream in the undergrowth. Guinevere and Lancelot are sitting on each side of the fire, pensive. The young woman has her arms tied around her knees, and the man rests his elbows on his thighs, lost in thoughts, the flames dancing in his black eyes.

Finna is still sitting on her stone, wrapped in her long thick blue cloak, her wrinkled face turned toward him with compassion.

_How much time has passed?_

_As she spoken aloud? Was he dreaming? Did the others notice like him the strange atmosphere?_

He casts a glance towards the prince and feels a lot better.

Arthur looks irked and peeved, leaning against the stone wall, his sword on the blanket at his right.

Merlin is dozing against his left shoulder, his wheezing barely relieved by the fact he's seated. His long legs are sprawled out in front of him on the pile of ferns and if was not for the red spots on his pale cheekbones, he'd looked perfectly peaceful, perfectly happy, perfectly where he belongs.

Gwaine gets up with caution, but the woman does not try to stop him and does not speak either. The bearded young man goes to crouch next to the prince.

\- "She's a freak", he mutters.

\- "Took you that long to notice?" Arthur hisses in an exasperated tone.

\- "I don't think we should let her stay here tonight."

\- "It's at times like this that I understand why my father has a grudge against witchcraft ..."

\- "She's not a witch, she's a druid", corrects a sleepily voice.

\- "Shut up, _Mer_ lin", the prince replies immediately. "Go back to sleep."

\- "…'Kay."

Gwaine chuckles fondly as the manservant re-settles comfortably against his master's shoulder, not concerning at all over propriety.

Arthur clears his throat, a little embarrassed.

\- "He can't sleep laying down... his ribs", he says gruffly. "He will slow us down if he's too tired to walk on his own, tomorrow. Percival well have the strength of three men, he can not carry him forever."

\- "I see."

Gwaine fails to hide the amused sparkle in his eyes.

\- "Good night, sire", he says, patting shortly Arthur's right shoulder.

The prince does not answer, his eyes still staring at the old woman sitting by the fire.

Lancelot and Percival have gone to bed too. Sir Leon keeps watch under the foliage of the dark trees, hazed by the full moon's blue light.

Guinevere smiles to Finna.

\- "Do you want to share a blanket with me?" she offers.

The old woman looks at her for a moment in silence, her wrinkled face full of tenderness, then she reaches out and brushes off a dark curl on the girl's forehead.

\- "Thank you, my child", she says softly. "Thank you, _Guinevere,_ _daughter of a blacksmith, first gown to hold the power of a sword._ _Forsaken sister, becoming mother, born a servant and gone a queen, there was none and will never be another woman like you. Twice will your heart be broken, but in grace you shall stand, for your love is what binds your people_."

Guinevere shudders, but she does not push the old hand stroking her hair. Her almond eyes, fascinated, drink the strange words of the stranger whispering under the stars.

\- " _When the dragon draws his last breath and burning heavens shed rain and blood, the tears of the King will fall and never end. Then on your shoulders will rest the fate of Albion. Fear not, for the kingdom engraved in your heart will remain united as long as your children will sit on the throne_."

\- "What ... how do I know? What ... what do I do? What d-do you mean?" Guinevere breathes, trembling despite the heat of the nearby fire.

Deep inside her body, something tears apart as she listens to the words of the old woman.

_Something very sad._

_Something very beautiful._

_Something infinite._

_Something so fragile._

Finna smiles again and tears shine in her clear blue eyes.

\- "Do not be afraid, child. You will not be alone."

She strokes one last time the girl's curly hair, then stands up, comes to Arthur and slowly, with a deep, almost _palpable_ respect, kneels and bows to him.

When she gets up again, she gives one last look of adoration to Merlin who's still sleeping, then she disappears between the trees, like a ghost.

Arthur shares a glance of incomprehension with Sir Leon.

The embers sizzle in the warm summer night. All the others are asleep, except for Guinevere who's crying, watching the ashes, so silent and so still that they do not notice. Maybe they have dreamed this moment, maybe the old woman was never there.

At dawn, none of them talks about the visitor, but everyone remembers her mysterious words.

They cross the mountain pass around noon and begin their descent towards the kingdom where they will find refuge.

_"Tomorrow night will see the end of your journey."_

How Finna guessed, they do not know, but when the sun sparkles like diamonds on the river bed which is the border between Camelot and Nemeth, they meet a patrol of King Rodor's knights.

* * *

**_TBC_ **

**_Next chapter coming up : WORDS TO DARESAY_ **


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